


Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven

by a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Coda, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle/pseuds/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle
Summary: Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 138
Kudos: 137





	1. Runnin' on Empty

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to James @friedchickenangelwings over on tumblr for helping me with the story, I am so happy to have you on board. 
> 
> I'll tag any real tw's accordingly before each chapter, but my general headcanon for Dean's death is that he unalived himself because he lost the will to live, so that is very vaguely mentioned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive  
> Trying not to confuse it, with what you do to survive  
> In '69, I was 21 and I called the road my own  
> I don't know when that road turned into the road I'm on
> 
> Running on (running on empty)  
> Running on (running blind)  
> Running on (running into the sun)  
> But I'm running behind
> 
> Everyone I know, everywhere I go  
> People need some reason to believe  
> I don't know about anyone, but me  
> If it takes all night, that'll be all right  
> If I can get you to smile before I leave
> 
> Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels  
> I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels  
> Look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through  
> Looking into their eyes, I see them running too

“Well, _ Cas _ helped.”

Dean’s heart flutters at that and he looks at Bobby. The damn old man raises his eyebrows; he knows he just buried the lead and he did it on purpose. A soft breath escapes him and he smiles. Maybe this is gonna be alright after all. Hell, maybe he can find that angel and…

“It’s a big new world out there. You’ll see.” 

Dean’s stomach twists at the idea.  _ I don’t wanna see.  _ His stupid brain insists. He takes a swig of the beer in his hand to try to quiet the voice. “Oh, wow.” He recoils a bit and looks at it. “This tastes like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.” He shares a wry smile with Bobby. Drinks with Dad weren’t exactly top-tier, and they both knew it.   
  


“Quality stuff?” 

Dean’s smiling because he feels like he should be. “Nah, it’s crap.” He tries to shift that memory into a good thing, because his memory of his first beer is the crushing doubt and fear that swirled around his head. Finally, he’d done something right enough to earn a beer like a Man, but he still felt… broken. 

He feels the same now.

Maybe it’s because he’d really just wanted a hug.

But Bobby is waiting for him to say something. Dean focuses instead on the surface-level joy of that old mid-evening beer, the pride in his dad’s eyes, trying to drum up the feeling. “But it was fantastic.” 

“Just like this.”

“It’s almost perfect.” Dean manages. He wants Bobby to agree. He wants Bobby to say ‘Yeah, I know, something just ain’t right, can’t put my finger on it,’ but he doesn’t. He lets the silence drag on for a second longer before he fills it.

“He’ll be along.” Dean’s heart jumps, but then he realizes he’s talking about Sam. Not Cas. But he doesn’t want Sam up here anytime soon; he wants Sam to live a nice life with Eileen like he promised. “Time up here, it’s different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

It kinda feels like when Jack was born and Cas was dead and Sam wanted to go to strip clubs and listen to Zeppelin and eat at the greasiest holes-in-the-wall. Like he had everything he was supposed to want laid right out in front of him, but… none of it made Dean  _ feel  _ anything. He looks around, searching for inspiration, and his eyes land on Home. Things always look clearer when he's looking out at ‘em through Baby’s windshield. “I think I’ll go for a drive.” 

“Have fun.” 

He leaves the acrid beer with Bobby and climbs into his car. Maybe he’s insane, but she feels.. different. He is insane. He is in heaven. “Get it together, Dean.” he mutters to himself as he pulls away. Bobby mentioned that his parents are nearby but… Dean doesn't want to face that yet. Nothing to fix your existential crisis about Heaven like a neat talk with your disappointed parents. 

He keeps to the main road instead. He drives for an hour, maybe two, at least that’s what it feels like. From what Bobby said, time isn’t so straightforward here. That only scares him a little bit. Eventually, his brain seems to calm down enough to think clearly. He’d chosen this. He’d accepted this. And he’d meant what he’d said in that barn; he was okay with dying. Of course, he didn’t realize that meant… He didn’t realize that meant more. 

A little voice inside him whispers something evil. He’d just wanted to see Cas again. Even in memories. Like it was before…

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not gonna fuck it up. It’s heaven. I can’t fuck it up in heaven, right?” He laughs out loud to himself, but it’s cut off by Baby groaning underneath him. She starts to slow. “Baby? What the hell?”

She’s out of gas.

Dean grumbles as he pulls over. “Sonuvvabitch, what the-” He almost said what the hell. He’s in heaven. Nothing in hell. Heh. She rolls to a stop and he kills the engine, letting the new silence and stillness wash over him. He sighs. Heaven, huh?

He scrubs a hand across his back and looks over to his right, to an onion field. Yellow and pokey and-

Cas is standing in the middle of it. 

Dean just about has a heart attack. He scrambles out of the car, honks Baby’s horn in the process, is all the way around the car by the time he really sees him.

Cas looks terrible. He’s standing stock-still in the middle of the field, arms down at his sides, crumpled trench coat speckled with the black sludge that haunts Dean’s nightmares. His hair is matted, his face gaunt, eyes sunken in with bags dark as bruises. But what scares Dean the most is the look in his eyes. His eyelids droop and hang and he stares straight ahead, straight at Dean, without seeing him, without any light in them at all. 

It doesn’t look like Cas. 

“Cas?” Dean approaches slowly, hands held out like he would to a wild animal. Cas shows no sign of moving, just stands there. “Cas, look at me, man,” There’s pleading in his voice, but he doesn’t care. He needs Cas to be okay. 

Castiel is not okay. 

As Dean gets closer, he starts to hear screams and crashes. He twists around to look for the source, but it just seemed to come from… around Cas. He looks closer, and Cas’s hands move to fend something off he can’t see. He’s still just staring ahead, but, looking closer at Cas’s face, he sees something he hadn’t noticed before. 

Cas is talking. Well, muttering really. Dean can barely hear him through the pauses in far-off yells. “d-Dea-Dean. Dean- de-Dean.” Dean's stomach drops off a cliff. “Dean, just think of… D-du-Dean.” 

“I’m here, Cas.” Fuck the rasp in his voice. Fuck the tears in his eyes. Cas can’t hear him. He can tell by the look in his eyes. “FUCK!” 

He rubs his eyes with his fists furiously. This is so frustrating, this is so-

There is no one there. No sound. Cas is gone. 

Dean strides ahead, but it’s no use. The field is empty, and he is alone. Again. 

It takes Dean a few minutes before he can get himself under control. Cas isn’t there; he has to assume he never had been, not really. So, unless Dean has finally gone off the deep end, it was… what, a vision? A- god, it felt familiar. It felt like - it felt like after purgatory. The same haunted face, the same unseeing eyes. Gone in a blink.

_ Why am I seeing you again, man?  _

But, as sure as he is that there is grass on the ground, he knows Cas can’t hear him.

Dean sits up against his fender and sighs. On the one hand, he is sitting on warm clear asphalt, feeling the afternoon sun bake his face, and on the other, he is miserable and seeing his dead-alive-again best friend. Except if Cas was around, he would come see him. Right? I mean, Dean died. So young. And Cas just told him - And Dean is praying to him. And he’s not here. It’s not right. None of it is. That he is sure about. If this was heaven, he didn’t want it.

Dean gets up. Will he ever get some motherfucking peace? He gets in his car, tries the ignition. She starts up again and - miracle of miracles - has gas. He thanks her with a pat and they're off, riding into the eerily-perfect sunset, back the way they came.

Night’s fallen by the time he pulls into the dirt pathway. He parks on the lawn and shivers a little bit in the chill of the night. Funny, he wouldn’t think Heaven got cold. But then again, he wouldn’t have thought Heaven would be shitty either. The roadhouse is inviting and homey, lights on inside. Dean snags a beer from the cooler left out front and kicks the door open softly. “Hello?” He doesn’t know who he’s expecting, but it definitely wasn’t who he gets. 

“Dean!” Charlie wraps him in a hug before he can say anything, and Dean gladly melts into it. God, it’s good to see her. He pulls away and pats her cheek, checking her out. She looks good, normal. Less… dead and bloody than he last saw her? Jesus his mind is a dark place. 

“Hey kid! How the hell are you?” 

Charlie rolls her eyes at the greeting, but she can’t stop grinning. “All things considering, y’know, being dead and all, I’m good!” 

Dean laughs. She’s already rambling, and he  _ missed  _ her. “Sorry about that one,” he winces, remembering his part in the circumstances around her death. 

Charlie chooses to take it as condolences. “Yeah, you too, dude. But at least we died young and hot, right?” She tugs him over to the bar and leans around to yell at the scuffed doorway. “Ash! We got company?”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Ash? You guys know each other?” 

“Can’t keep geniuses like us apart, compadre,” Dr. BadAss comes out of his backroom, arms spread out in greeting. Dean can’t stop himself from greeting him with a hug. He hadn’t known who to expect here, but Ash and Charlie are just about best-case scenario. “What’re you doing here?” 

Dean knows he means how he died, but he looks around anyway. The rest of the bar is quiet and still, and Dean can hear nothing outside the heavy doors either. “I think we gotta problem, Ash.” 

Ash’s face folds into a frown. “What kinda problem?” Dean feels Charlie press in and he glances at her suddenly-serious face. 

“A big one. A heaven sized one.” They all looked around skeptically, a little Scooby-Doo-like, taking in the lifeless room around them. Finally, Ash meets Dean’s eyes, and Dean withdraws a little. 

“Yeah, we know. Welcome to the team, Deano.” 


	2. Us and Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me  
> And you (you, you, you)  
> God only knows  
> It's not what we would choose (choose, choose) to do (to do, to do)  
> Forward he cried from the rear  
> And the front rank died  
> And the general sat  
> And the lines on the map  
> Moved from side to side  
> Black (black, black, black)  
> And blue (blue, blue)  
> And who knows which is which and who is who  
> Up (up, up, up, up)  
> And down (down, down, down, down)  
> And in the end it's only round 'n round (round, round, round)  
> Haven't you heard it's a battle of words

The Empty is alive, and it’s full of chaos. Angels and demons alike battle and bicker. The noise is deafening. It’s overwhelming. 

That’s even without the voice. It’s singular, in his head. It hisses at him from all around.  _ You killed yourself for a man who didn’t even love you. You’re pathetic. You should just lay down and accept it. You did this to yourself, after all. That’s why you’re here. _

Cas’s hands are shaking. He holds onto his lapels, but the feeling of the cloth is somehow worse than the shaking. He takes them away and crouches down. He wants to tear his hair out. The Empty isn’t just surrounding all of them, it’s surrounding him. It  _ hates  _ him. It presses in and threatens to suffocate him. He wants to accept it, but then he has one thought. Of Dean. 

Dean Winchester, beautiful even in his desperation, looking to Cas for hope. That’s why Cas is here. Cas can’t lose hope. No, he can’t. Dean wouldn’t want Cas to lay down and die. “Dean. D-d-Dean. Dean.” Yes. That’s a good thought. That will work. Cas pushes back. He stands up. He manages to hold the Empty’s force back and take a breath. 

“Dean. Dean. Do it for… Dean.” 

He doesn’t know how long he holds there, screaming at the Empty, muttering Dean’s name, promising himself he won’t give up. Beings tear into him, pummeling him. The Empty presses bruise after hopeless thought into his head.

_ A broken toy clinging to its owner. Dean, Dean! It’s sad, really. He’s happy you’re gone. He’s happy to be rid of you.  _ Lucifer’s vessel mocks him, standing in front of him without any real form. The Empty. 

It feels like at least an eternity before the pressure lets up. 

There’s a growl and a tear and the Empty flees. 

“Blimey, Feathers, what’d you do to piss that one off?”

Cas closes his eyes and wishes for a deeper void to swallow him. Unfortunately, none do. He opens them and faces the demon in front of him. “Crowley.” 

Crowley wipes a splash of Empty off his face and pockets his blade. “Castiel. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Cas crosses his arms. A huge part of him is sighing in relief to see a familiar - if not totally friendly - face in this pit of despair. That doesn’t mean he’s going to show it, though. “Why did you help me?” 

The chaos rages on around them, this time without the added assault of the Empty trying to torture them. Crowley grumbles and shoves a demon that falls into him, turning an annoyed glare at Cas. “I don’t know about you, pretty boy, but it’s a bit cramped for me in here. Fancy a walk?”

Cas frowns at him. “A walk? Where?” 

Crowley rolls his eyes and grabs Cas’s arm roughly. He tugs the angel in a direction he apparently knows. “Away. Come on, I know a spot.” 

Walking through the Empty is confusing. It has no substance and yet it all seems uphill, which is... infuriating. Crowley doesn’t make it much better. He complains about the walk or the fighting and when he doesn’t, he makes sexual innuendos about the people they pass. Through it all, he only stops a few times to mentally fend off some unseen force, the Empty’s undoubtable influence working at his defenses. It’s minute, the flicks and mutters, but for Crowley, the outer signs of weakness are monumental.

“What is it, for you?” Cas asks almost without thinking, his curiosity getting the better of him. Crowley glares, but Cas can’t be scared by his only ally. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetums,” Crowley smiles through clenched teeth. 

Cas sighs. He wants to work with Crowley; he wants to not be so alone amongst the misery. He doesn’t know if that means pressing or falling back. “The Empty. The… regrets. The memories.” 

“Don’t have ‘em.” 

“Cut the crap.” 

Crowley’s eyes flicker to a spot to the right of Cas, and Cas turns to look. There’s no one there, no one that he can see, anyway. “Feathers. You wanna play Hannibal Lector or you wanna get the hell out of here?”

Cas shakes his head and concedes. Crowley isn’t going to speak about it, at least right now. The demon seems to appreciate it, because he turns and keeps going, shoulders set more tightly now. Cas tries as much as he can to ignore the 

“Here we are, home sweet… formless void.” Crowley gestures with a flourish to a part of the nothingness which is oddly devoid of angels and demons. Castiel reluctantly follows after him. It seems like a tunnel to Cas. Crowley stops after a bit and they sit, taking the break for what it is. Cas sits criss cross on the ground, despite Crowley’s condescending looks. The demon opts for leaning up against a darker spot, a leap of faith. It holds him up, just Castiel’s luck. “So what’s the plan, angel?” 

“Plan?” Cas narrows his eyes. “What plan? You found me.” 

Crowley rolls his eyes. “W _ ord on the street _ is you had a hand in starting all this. You did, didn’t you?” 

Cas looks away, not wanting to admit it. “It was… my child.” Jack is the only one with the power to wake up the Empty, let alone all the souls resting there. Jack, his child, that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye to. 

_ That’s right. You just left him without a second thought. Some father you are. More like an endless cycle, absent father breeds absent father.  _ He sees Claire, hate in her eyes he hasn’t seen since she was young.

Crowley blinks, forgetting to be smarmy in his shock. “ _ You’ _ ve got a kid? Hell, I didn’t think you-” Cas glares at him. He knows what the demon had been thinking, and he is done with people making fun of him for it. “Oh… your ‘kid.’” Crowley remembers himself. “So what, raised yourself a little mojo machine, did you? Swaddled it and sang it Led Zeppelin in the back of the Impala?” 

Cas grits his teeth and rises up. He has Crowley pinned by his neck against the wall before he can get another word out, and Crowley just raises an eyebrow at him. “If this…  _ alliance  _ is going to work, at all, you are going to drop the snide comments. Understand?” The last look he saw on Dean’s face is still clear in his head, and he will not have it be tainted with taunts.

Crowley seems unmoved. “But pudding, that’s half my charm,” he purrs, batting his eyelashes. 

Cas releases him with a grunt. “You have no charm.” 

“I think your pet human would attest otherwise.” 

_ “Why did you help me?” _ Cas’s patience is wearing thin. Crowley seems to realize it, because he drops his arms, looking annoyed at the end in banter. 

Crowley’s eyes flicker past Cas again, and he is reminded that the Empty is having an effect on the demon as well. “Because I want out of here, you giraffe. And I’m fairly certain that if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my several lifetimes, it is that the Winchesters always have a way out.” He admits it grudgingly. “And you, my fine feathered friend, are my best bet to get to them.” 

Cas stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Well, the Winchesters aren’t here. And they aren’t coming. So you might want to rethink your plan.” 

Crowley rolls his eyes and grabs Cas’s hand, swinging it between them for effect. “Too late, Snookums, we’re hitched. We’re getting out of here, one way or another. So get. On. Board. I don’t have time for your pity party.” He looks Cas in the eye, watches as the defiance slowly drains out of them to be replaced by reluctant agreement. “Great. Now, what are the Hardy Boys up to on the blue marble?”

Cas shrugs. “I assume they are defeating God. As planned.” 

Crowley closes his eyes, trying to find the strength. “God.” 

“Yes.”

“They got on the bad side of  _ God?”  _

“Yes, well, Chuck wanted-”

“No, you know what, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” He holds up his hands in defense. “After they  _ deal  _ with God, what’s the plan? How will they rescue Columbo this time?”

Cas sighs. “There is no plan, Crowley. I was being serious.” Crowley is somewhat shaken. 

“Well, fine, but they’re bloody well going to come for you. Aren’t they?” 

Cas swallows the lump in his throat. His mind flashes back to telling Dean he loves him, to the shocked and frozen expression on his face. It didn’t matter to him then, Dean not feeling the same way, but now? Dean might not want him back. But then he remembers Jack, scared and burdened and hopelessly naive to the world. Cas isn’t even sure there will be an earth to go back to, but he is sure that he has to make sure Jack is okay. He has to get back to his child, come what may.

He looks back at Crowley with a frown. This demon is his only hope, now. “Yes, yes, of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays! let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!! maybe if you guys bribe me with comments and kudos enough i'll release the next chapter early


	3. God is Dead?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivers of evil  
> Run through dying land  
> Swimming in sorrow, they kill, steal, and borrow, there is no tomorrow  
> For the sinners will be damned  
> Ashes to ashes  
> You cannot exhume a soul  
> Who do you trust when corruption and lust, creed of all the unjust,  
> Leaves you empty and unwhole?  
> When will this nightmare be over? Tell me!  
> When can I empty my head?  
> Will someone tell me the answer?  
> Is God really dead?  
> Is God really dead?
> 
> Nowhere to run  
> Nowhere to hide  
> Wondering if we will meet again  
> On the other side  
> Do you believe a word  
> What the good book said?  
> Or is it just a holy fairytale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite chapter so far. enjoy.

_ “You know?”  _ Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side. “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with  _ Lucifer  _ without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him  _ that.  _ “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like  _ that  _ and then  _ leave.  _ It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i might start updating two times a week at this point because i have been writing at BREAKNECK speed. intensely excited about this story.


	4. Gloria (In Excelsis Deo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine  
> Meltin' in a pot of thieves  
> Wild card up my sleeve  
> Thick heart of stone  
> My sins my own  
> They belong to me, me  
> People say "beware!"  
> But I don't care  
> The words are just  
> Rules and regulations to me, me

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Cas tries to resign himself to the fact that this is his “life” now. He’s wandering through a vast landscape of every demon and angel ever killed, trying to avoid a cosmic force which hates him, with a smarmy demon.

“Rumor has it there’s a weak spot between the realms.” Crowley walks backwards so he can look at Cas, which means Cas has to watch his back and make sure he isn’t walking into any daggers. It’s annoying. “Unfortunately, that means all the picks of the litter,” he gestures to the havoc around them. “Are going to be there, crowding to be the first ones out when the door breaks.”

Cas sighs. “Great. And you know how to get there?” 

Crowley shrugs. “I have a general idea.” That doesn’t inspire much confidence in Cas. “Relax, Flyboy, I’ve got a handle on this sort of thing. What  _ we  _ need to figure out is how we’ll get past all the eager beavers when we make it there.” 

“Is killing and maiming not enough of a plan for you?” 

Crowley grins. “Oh, Cas _ tiel,  _ stop it, you make a demon blush when you say things like that.” Cas shakes his head. 

“Well, I’d love a better plan, but this place doesn’t seem full of… possibility.” He kicks aimlessly at a patch of Not-Ground and inexplicably stubs his toe. Crowley gives him a withering look, but doesn’t disagree. They walk in silence for a few more moments.

“So…” Crowley’s tone automatically sets off Cas’s waried alarms. He sounds like he’s trying to be _casual._ Cas looks over and - sure enough- Crowley is pointedly looking at his nails. “Did they cry over me long?” 

Cas sends him a flat look.  _ They  _ in Crowley’s book automatically means  _ The Winchesters _ , and  _ The Winchesters  _ automatically means  _ Dean. _ Crowley was asking:  _ Did Dean cry over me long? _

_ Did Dean cry over me?  _ He wonders.

Cas clears his throat and realizes… “I don’t know.” 

Crowley frowns at him. “What do you mean you don’t know? Too teared up yourself after your old pal Crowley to see if Moose and Squirrel were in pieces? Or were you just too focused on the new b é b é ?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “First of all, we’re not  _ pals.”  _ Dean and he are pals. Crowley and he are  _ not  _ pals. “Second of all, I was dead.” 

Crowley stops dead. “You mean to tell me you died right after my big heroic scene? You mean to tell me-”

“Mary was dragged into the Apocalypse World with Lucifer, who stabbed me in the back and killed me.” 

Crowley looks sincerely sullen at that. “That’s just-” He walks ahead. 

Cas blinks. Crowley is not one to drop a matter, especially not one he’s so obviously pissy about. This can’t mean anything good. “What is it?” 

The man spun around almost immediately. “I  _ died,  _ you bloody idiot! And you had to go and die after me? Just to rub it in my face?” 

“Yes, I got stabbed by my older brother just to overshadow your ‘heroic sacrifice.’” This son of a bitch was so dramatic.    
  


Crowley glared at him. “He didn’t even notice me dying.”

Oh. So he’s dropping the pretences then. Cas is trying to be patient, but frankly the logic is ridiculous. “I’m sure he noticed you dying.” 

“Not after you,” Crowley shoves his hands in Cas’s direction, then sticks them in his pockets and keeps walking, forcing Cas to trail behind him like a weary parent of a petulant teenager.

_ Fuck, he actually thinks I care about you?  _ Dean Winchester eases out of the darkness with his eyebrows raised. He’s wearing a smile that Cas has only ever seen on Dean as a demon, and it makes his blood crawl.  _ Poor son of a bitch. Delusional. Almost as bad as you, buddy.  _ Empty!Dean smirks and eyes Cas with pity. Cas has never heard “buddy” sound so condescending.  _ Thinking I could ever feel the same. _

Cas squeezes his eyes shut and counts to three. He never thought that Dean could feel the same. “Crowley.” He gains speed, trying to leave the Empty!Dean behind. “Crowley.” 

“I give my life for those insufferable lumberjacks and-”

“I’m sure they-”

_ We didn’t. Didn’t even have a funeral for you insufferable pricks. We just said good riddance and let your body rot.  _ Empty!Dean’s smile is vicious, and Cas can’t get it out of his head. Try as he might, Cas can’t get Dean to disappear from his mind’s eye. As much as Empty!Dean’s words are hurting him, just seeing his face again is… reassuring.

“You really don’t know, though, do you?” His voice is prickly, its shields back up despite the truth he was spouting. “You never saw him after the times you died. I-”

Crowley runs into something. Someone, actually. 

They must’ve both been too distracted, in their conversation and their thoughts, to notice. The straggler looks behind himself to see Crowley, and in seconds they’re surrounded by a whole group of them. Angels. Cas sees the leader and swallows hard. He nods at them on the minute chance they don’t recognize him or hate him. “Hello, Hester.”

The angel smiles in the least emotive way possible. “Hello, Castiel. Still keeping company with the damned, I see.” 

The angels around Cas grab a hold of his arms before he can make any move. They do the same thing to Crowley ahead of him. Cas grits his teeth, momentarily considering fighting before realizing it’s hopeless. He takes the defiance route and looks back up at his old foe. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, Hester? We’re all damned.” 

The angels aren’t pleased with that reply, if their rough handling is any indication. They haul Crowley and Cas across the Emptiness with a speed that’s exhausting, but at least they don’t have to worry about the fighting. Even in the midst of battles, angels, demons, and creatures of all sorts make room for the group of well-armed and organized angels. Crowley frowns over at him through the mess. “Thanks for the defense, feathers, but how in holy hell are we gonna get out of this one?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The angels shush them then. Cas takes the time to try to formulate a plan of action, but it feels like his thoughts are clouded and malformed. The effort of fighting off the visions of the Empty is exhausting, and he just doesn’t have anything left except the dull panic of knowing that wherever he is going is worse. 

Crowley isn’t doing much better. He stops struggling against being manhandled early, opting to bat his eyelashes at the man closest to him. “See something you like, angel?” He looks vaguely satisfied by the look of discomfort on the man’s face.

“Hester, where are you taking us?” The insistent fear still holding to Cas’s heart makes him ask even though he’s sure the answer will mean very little.

Hester glances behind herself carelessly. “Oh, first we are going to our stop-post. But after, Castiel, after that we are taking you straight to the Empty itself.” 

Cas closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself. “Why?”

“Because it hates you.” She says it like she expects the words to sting, and when Cas seems unaffected, she frowns. “You are the reason all of this is happening. You are the reason the realms are in chaos, Castiel.” 

_ That’s right, Castiel. It’s your fault we’re all suffering now. Hell, even after you murdered us, you continue to twist the knife.  _ An Empty!Balthasar walks alongside the group, eyes locked on Cas’s and voice solely for his ears. 

“You used to be so devout, Castiel. It saddens me, to see you fall yet further.” 

“Yes, well, things happen.” Cas can’t believe he’s even attempting to justify himself. 

“ _ Things.  _ Don’t be so coy; we know of whom you speak.” 

Crowley snorts and Cas looks over at him. Of all the things he could describe their current situation as, amusing would not be one of them. “Oh, can it with the piety, King James. Who doesn’t get up to a little interspecies hanky panky every now and again?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the angel he’s closest to, and he moves away so quickly he almost lets go of Crowley altogether. 

Cas smiles in spite of himself. 

Hester is not entertained. “My point is made for me. Don’t you ever feel ashamed of yourself, Castiel? You used to be a leader of the garrison, an example to be looked to.”

Cas looks at her dully. “I used to be a dick.” he says truthfully. If he’s honest, thinking of himself before he rebelled is much more painful than thinking of himself after. “I am not ashamed of who I am. I’ve done much wrong, yes, but  _ loving Dean Winchester  _ is not one of those wrongs.” He clears his throat, trying to dispel some of the thickness that’s popped up with his words. He won’t hide that anymore. He’d given that up the second he decided to say it out loud. 

Hester looks taken aback by his bluntness. Of course, the last time she saw him… well, he was much less at peace with himself. “You really are tarnished beyond repair. Fine, you will meet your end without repentance.” 

Cas shrugs. “Not like my repentance would make much of a difference.” he grumbles. He’s pretty sure there would be no shaking hands and getting over it even if he was groveling at the Empty’s metaphysical feet. Not after all this. And it’s not like he could fix the chaos even if he wanted to. 

Crowley knocks into his side and jerks his head ahead of them, pointing in the direction of the first structure they’ve seen in the Empty. It’s a low, sturdy building made of the ether solidified into depressing dark door and windowless lodging, with stairs out front leading to a below ground level entrance. This is where they go, into the bunker. It makes Cas off-handedly ill to think of the bunker he wants to be at, and he’s so wrapped up in that thought he doesn’t pay much heed to the expansive underground structure Hester leads them through. They eventually get to holding cells, and Cas and Crowley are thrown into one together. 

“You’ve done this to yourself, Castiel.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have the energy to disagree with her. She’s not wrong. He follows Crowley’s lead instead, sticking a middle finger up in reply. She huffs and leaves them alone, in the dim lighting with only a dank stench and a dripping noise for company. Well, that’s not entirely true. 

“Gee, Clarence, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” 

Cas’s heart leaps out of his chest. “Meg?” 

Crowley groans next to him, which they both ignore. “Hiya, boys.” Meg waves from behind matching bars across the room from them. “Fancy seeing you here.” 


	5. Made in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking my ride with destiny  
> Willing to play my part  
> Living with painful memories  
> Loving with all my heart  
> Made in heaven, made in heaven  
> It was all meant to be, yeah  
> Made in heaven, made in heaven  
> That's what they say  
> Can't you see  
> That's what everybody says to me  
> Can't you see  
> Oh I know, I know, I know that it's true  
> Yes it's really meant to be  
> Deep in my heart

“Alright, ladies and gents, let’s do this.” Pamela rubs her hands together. They’re all crowded around a table, having hauled Pamela’s magic crap in. She looks around at them like they’re all gathered around for a campfire ghost story. “So, rumor has it that you can crack into the Empty with an inter-realm spell. So… we need somebody from each of the ball fields: Heaven, Earth, Hell, Purgatory.” 

Charlie whistles. “Great. Well, we got the Heaven side covered. Earth is probably next easiest, right?” 

“Except we can’t run the risk of Chuck finding out what we’re up to. So, down low. Evasive measures.” 

Dean nods at Ash. “Sam’s got a handle on the Earth shit; he’s a little magic freak now. No offense.” he puts a hand on Pamela. She rolls her eyes. “But how do we get a message down to him without setting Chuck off? Not like we can send a halo-ed carrier pigeon.”

They all think on it for a second, till Pamela leans forward. “The veil. If we can contact a ghost, they can haunt Sam and get him the message.” 

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t ghosts known for being kind of… crazy? Murderous?”

“Huge dicks?” Ash adds helpfully. 

Pamela shrugs. “We could find one that’s recently died; there’s the possibility they wouldn’t have turned yet. But we’d have to know who we’re contacting, we can’t just put out a classified.” 

Something pings in the back of Dean’s head and he slams his hand on the table. He apologizes quickly because damn near everyone jumps at the noise. “I got it. Kevin. Kevin Tran. He’s in the veil still, and he’s spent a fuckton of time down there, he’d know how to haunt somebody good.” 

“And is he going to want to help us?” 

Dean frowns at Pamela. “What does that mean?” 

“I mean, people don’t usually end well around you, Dean. Case in point,” she motions around the table at all of them. “It’s not your fault but… sometimes there are hard feelings.” 

Dean shakes his head. He deserves hard feelings from Kevin, that’s for sure, but the kid’s awesome. Hell, last time he’d seen them he’d been almost happy, even signing up to stay in the veil forever. “Nah, we can trust Kevin. He’s family.” 

“Alright. Fire her up then, Pam,” Ash is excited. Pamela shoots him a glare for impatience but she gets her shit together anyway. It’s already set up, all she has to do is ask Dean for a few personal details, chant a bit, and she gets through. “We’re asking for Kevin Tran. Kevin Tran, if you’re out there, Dean Winchester wants a word. Well, a few actually. Kevin, can you hear me?” 

The draft spigot turns on by itself, spewing beer onto the floor. “Hey Kev, want a beer?” Dean jumps up and grabs a glass, pumped at the prospect of seeing his friend again.” 

“That’s it, Kevin. You’re doing great. Keep trying, keep locking into that.” 

The candles on the table go out one by one: apparently, Kevin practicing. Dean holds his breath and shuts off the draft spigot, a glass of beer held out in front of him. “Can ghosts drink? Wait, are you even 21, Kevin?” 

“The kid’s dead and you’re gonna huff and puff over the legal age for a Pilsner?” Ash laughs. Dean hands it to him; he has a point. Maybe Jack’s made him a little overprotective of shit like that. 

Kevin appears in front of Dean then, hand outstretched to try and take the beer. His sudden appearance makes Dean spill half of it all over himself. “Son of a- hi Kevin!” he offers the beer out again, and this time Kevin takes it and pours it right through his ghostly figure. “Oh… shit.” 

Kevin deadpans at him. “Yeah, it sucks. Hi, Dean.” 

“How you doing, bud?” 

Kevin shrugs and sighs, looking down at himself. “Well, I’m dead. Still. Dean, you wanna explain what I’m doing here first?” 

Dean nods, grabbing the beer back from Kevin and setting it on the table. He motions for the kid to turn around toward the table set up with witchy shit. “Kevin, this is Ash, Charlie, and Pamela, the psychic who summoned you.” Pamela and Ash both give a flirty wink, which makes Dean turn about three shades of red in the face. 

“Heard a lot, kid.” Ash greets him.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of any dead guy with such bad luck.” Pamela adds on. And she would know.

Kevin nods with a wry smile. “Yeah, well, that’s just me, I guess. Dead for years, in the veil most of it and hell for the rest.”

“Kev, I’m so sorry-” 

Kevin holds up a hand to stave off Dean’s apologies. “It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s Chuck’s. Tell me you got him.” 

“That’s what we’re here for, man.” 

“Yeah, apparently we’re the Kill God Team now.” Charlie grins and Kevin smiles back. 

“Hell fucking yeah. I can get on board with that. Whaddya need me to do?” 

They all sit down at the table and map it all out. “We need you to get the plan over to Sam, but we can’t have Chuck finding out about any of it.”

“Yeah, so you need to make sure he knows to keep a low profile.” Dean warns. The last fucking thing in the world they need is to lose the element of surprise. Plus, that would put Sam right in Chuck’s crosshairs, and Dean can’t be there to back him up. He curses himself again for dying. 

“What exactly do we mean by low profile?” Charlie asks. “Are we talking cabin in the middle of the woods off-grid kind of low profile or just a Meet the Robinson’s type deal?”

Dean sighs. “Sam needs to stay away from anything Chuck likes to watch.” God, it sounded grimy just saying it. “That means hunting, that means me, that means… Eileen too.” 

“Eileen?” 

“His girlfriend.” It hurts Dean to think about, but- “Chuck’s used them against each other before; he likes them together. So they gotta stay apart.”

“Shit.” Charlie exhales quietly, and Dean nods. It’s unfair. It sucks. It’s Chuck. 

“Tell him to live a normal life. Be as happy as he can. But don’t come looking for me and don’t get interesting. Or Chuck will just fuck with him some more, and if he does that… he’s gonna find out what we’re doing.” Kevin nods seriously. He never gets brought around for fun shit, does he? Dean feels a pang of regret at that. He immediately wants to change it. “But right now, whaddya say we have some fun, huh?” 

The table looks at him like he’s gone nutty. He shrugs and grins. “Come on guys, we’re dead. Don’t we all have a night to spare?” 

He sees Charlie come around first, slow grin spreading across her face. “Fuck yeah, let’s party, bitches!”

It doesn’t take the rest of them much convincing either. Dean has some good-ass friends. “Yo Kev, since you can’t get fucked up, you wanna play some pool?” Ash hitches his thumb at the table behind him. 

Dean laughs. “Ash, you are one cruel son of a bitch. Years of being a friggin’ ghost and you’re gonna whoop him in pool? That’s cold.” 

Ash shakes his head. “Nah man, I’ve spent way more time passed out on that table than playing on it. I’d say the kid’s got a fair shot.” Kevin smiles and shrugs at Dean.

“Hey, that’s more than I’ve ever gotten before; I’ll take my chances” 

They head off to play and Dean grabs a beer to watch, a good one this time. One with the label he and Sam used to buy, the kind that Cas said “didn’t taste as much like the vast expanse of space dust” as the others. Charlie and Pamela follow with their own. 

“So Dean,” Pamela says. “Ash tells me you gotta angel on your shoulder.” She sounds a little weary. Dean figures that’s fair, given her experience with the species. 

“Uh… yeah. Castiel.” He gestures to her eyes. “That one.” Pamela shrugs if off. 

“So make me like him. Charlie here says you’ve got quite the bond.” Dean blushes pink, but for once there isn’t any innuendo behind her voice. At least, none that is teasing. He looks to Charlie, who makes a ‘I didn’t say anything’ face at him and relaxes a bit. 

“Well, uh, he hasn’t burned anymore eyes out,” Dean starts, then reconsiders. “Well, none that didn’t deserve it.” Not really true either. “Well-” 

“He’s super cute.” Charlie cuts him off. Dean blushes deeper. “He gave a whole fuck-you to heaven to save Dean.” Dean blushes deeper still. Why does it sound so… intimate when she says it like that? Pamela just raises an eyebrow.

“Sounds like some ally.” 

“Cas?” Kevin sinks a ball. The kid’s not bad, actually. Ash was right; they are neck-and-neck. “Yeah, he’s awesome. I mean, weird, but cool.” Dean grins. Weird but cool was exactly Cas. 

“Someday, man, I gotta meet this guy.” Ash laments.

“Someday, dude, you will.” Dean vows. Somehow sitting around talking about him with all these guys, he felt confident it was true. “Once we bust him out, you better bet we’re throwing a party and meet-and-greeting everybody. 

“I’ll finally get to tease him for the eyes. You think it’d get him better without the fakes?” She pops her fake cloudy eyes out and waggles her eyebrows at Dean, empty eye sockets looking bizarre on such a cheerful face. Dean laughs. 

“You’re not gonna need to; he already feels shitty for that. He’ll probably offer to heal ‘em, matter of fact.” 

“Well, he won’t get far with that one,” Ash calls over. “Angels been trying to do it for years.” Pamela nods at Dean’s questioning glance.

“Wouldn’t be me without ‘em, now. Who needs sight anyway?” 

“Without eyes you won’t be able to see my pretty face!” Dean bullshits. 

“Yeah, or your brother’s tight ass. Second thought, remind me when Sam gets up here, won’t ya?” Dean makes a gagging noise and Pamela laughs. 

“So you said Chuck’s in your… kid?” Kevin asks skeptically. He misses a shot and Ash hollers. Dean cracks his neck and considers how to answer. 

“Kinda. I mean, yeah. Just not- he’s Lucifer and a human’s, technically.” He starts, realizing Kelly’s in heaven too. They’ve gotta let her in on this, but not now. Not now when Chuck!Jack is probably visiting her as her son; it’s too risky. With how sick he feels at the idea of Jack being Chuck’s meatsuit, well…

He sees Cas. Again. Just for a second, there he is standing outside the window, looking less wounded but more tired than before. He looks like he’s focused on something, like he’s scared, but he also looks transfixed, like he can’t look away. As Dean watches, Cas closes his eyes and mouths something. It looks like he’s counting. “One, two, three.” Dean blinks and he’s gone, and Dean’s left wondering if he imagined the whole thing.

“Dean?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles at Charlie to let her know he’s okay. Ish. “Sorry, uh, so he’s kind of devilspawn but he’s ours. Mine, Cas’s, Sam’s. Long story. But he’s a good kid.” He nods, knowing he oughta give more information, but not really knowing how.

“Who woulda thought, Dean Winchester, a dad.” Ash ribs with a grin. Dean laughs back and nods. His life hadn’t really screamed stability and mentorhood. His death still didn’t.

“Yeah, I… I haven’t exactly been a star father-figure…” Dean shakes his head. The conflict in his head that culminates in Jack is confusing as hell, but three things win him over. The first is Jack’s innocent, naive face looking up at him for any kind of approval or wisdom. A kid. Just a kid. The second is Cas’s face as he smiles at him that one night over a whiskey glass, the prideful joy as he tells Dean he always believed in Jack. The third is the pit in his gut of all the times he acted like his dad to Jack. And no matter what, Dean can’t leave those memories be. He can’t have Jack remember him like that, and he can’t look Cas in the eye knowing he didn’t do everything he could to make things right. “But that’s gonna change, if it fucking kills me. We gotta save him when we get Chuck, guys, we gotta.” 

“We will.” Kevin looks at him with an overly-confident smile. “We can’t lose. You’ve got me, now!”

The rest of them bust out laughing, and Kevin fakes offense. “You’re right, Kev. Don’t know what I’m so worried ‘bout.” 


	6. Rusty Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wired me awake  
> And hit me with a hand of broken nails  
> You tied my lead and pulled my chain  
> To watch my blood begin to boil
> 
> I'm gonna break  
> I'm gonna break my  
> I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
> 
> Too cold to start a fire  
> I'm burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones  
> I'll take the river down to still waters  
> And ride a pack of dogs
> 
> I'm gonna break  
> I'm gonna break my  
> I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
> 
> When the forest burns along the road  
> Like God's eyes in my headlights  
> When the dogs are looking for their bones  
> And it's raining icepicks on your steel shore
> 
> I'm gonna break  
> I'm gonna break my  
> I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

“Of all the godforsaken hellholes in the thankless void-” 

“Shut up, Crowley.” Meg and Cas say it at the same time, which stops Crowley from pacing around the cell so he can put his hands on his hips and pout. Cas rolls his eyes and turns back to Meg.

“Meg, is it really… you?” Cas doesn’t want to hope, but this Meg seems… real. Like Meg. The demon in question scowls like she’s offended by the question. 

“Missed me, Clarence?”

“Yes.” Cas says automatically, feeling no need to hide it. Meg’s face changes a bit, softens into something that’s not disdain. “How can I know it’s really you? Tell me something only you would know.” Cas is desperately wishing that this is real, isn’t just another Empty-induced vision trying to make him lose hope. Meg was there in one of his lowest times, was nice to him, and though he knew she had somewhat of an ulterior motive, he also sensed her genuine care for him. The idea of finally seeing her again gave him just a spark of hope, just a spark.

Meg’s eyes glistened with mirth. “Are you sure you want me to do that?” 

Cas gives a side-eye to Crowley and rethinks. “A hint.”

She taps her fingers on her knee, sticks her lips out in thought. Something comes to mind, Cas watches it form into an idea and she smiles. “Pizza man.” 

Cas flashes back to a determined, rather out of his mind moment when he looked at Meg and decided to practice his make-out moves. Admittedly, she was a good kisser. Unfortunately, he did it directly in front of Dean and Sam. His cheeks turn pink as Meg grins. “Good to see you, Meg.What are you doing here?”

Meg shrugs. She kicks her feet up on the bars of her cell and looks at Cas. “Apparently I’m a ‘disruption,’” she says plainly. “The bible-thumpers don’t like that much.” 

“Disruption? What are you disrupting?” Crowley sighs loudly behind him.

“What isn’t she disrupting? That’s her  _ deal.  _ To annoy.” 

“Eat glass, Crowley.” Meg replies cheerfully.

“Enough, you two.” 

There’s a tense moment of silence before Meg continues. “I’ve been slashing my way through the bitch, ever since I heard it’s been using my face.” She raises an eyebrow. Cas blinks at her. 

“You’ve been attacking  _ The Empty? _ ” The insanity of this demon. He loves her.

Meg smirks. “I like this face. Fought hard for it. Besides, not like I had much of a chance getting out of here, anyway. I figured, might as well have my fun before it valiums the place.”

“Had?” Crowley sounds indignant. “No, absolutely not.” He knows what she’s implying. Cas perks up immediately. If she’s proposing an alliance, that means she has something to give. Something that might get them out of this despicable, hopeless hole.

“You have a way out?” 

Meg nods, eyes wandering to Crowley. “I just needed some more muscle. So, what do you say, Clarence? Crowley?” The latter name comes with an abundance of venom. “Team up?” 

Crowley and Cas share a glance before Crowley grunts. “It’s a deal.”

Meg gloats for a few minutes, as long as she can while the angel and demon glare at her from across the room. Finally she gives in and explains her plan. 

They’re all reclining casually when the angel comes back to check on them. It’s an angel Cas doesn’t recognize, one of his brothers that had fallen long ago, probably some of the only to follow Hester’s ways. “Hey handsome,” Meg drawls when he comes in. He remains stoic as he peeks in at Crowley, who waves back campily. “I’ve always had a thing for men with religious guilt.” 

She sends a wink to Cas before the angel turns to her. “I’m not a man.” he says simply, trying to appear unaffected. He steps closer to her cell, and she bares her teeth more than grins. 

“Angel, then.” 

“Yes.” Meg nods and sticks an arm through her cell bars, putting a soft hand on the back of the angel’s neck. He steps a little closer, almost up to the bars and Meg. “Do you really expect me to want to-”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, handsome,” Meg spits out. With a grunt she brings her other hand to the front and cuts open the front of his neck with a shining fragment of blade. The angel’s grace flows out and into the air. Meg uses telekinesis to keep it floating there before shoving the rest of the fragment through his neck.

He dies with a gurgle and a whimper. 

Meg waves her hand and some of the grace flies in a circle through the bars. The grace sizzles and burns on the hard surface, and Meg pushes broken bars out and steps through. “Found out by accident that pure grace is like acid to this pit.” She pushes a new shot of grace to cut through Crowley and Cas’s cell bars. They climb out after her, and Cas grabs the angel’s discarded sword. 

“Dandy. Now let’s kill us a few fanatics, huh?” 

They sneak down the hallway, but encounter no new enemies. Creeping up a short set of stairs yields no threats either. They are almost through the next hallway when they hear “Castiel?” and Cas’s blood runs cold. 

The three look over to the dark cell the voice is coming from. Emerging from the shadows, leather duster blending into the darkness of the wall, is Billie. 

Cas pushes Meg and Crowley forward trying to rush them out of Billie’s sight. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. “Castiel, wait. Please.” Cas pauses and stands then, offering a questioning and cautious glance over at his companions, who seem just as confused. “We can help each other.” 

Cas crosses his arms. He doesn’t know what to expect from Billie. The last time he’d seen her she’d been hellbent (excuse the pun) on bringing him and Dean personally to a fresh grave. “Why would I trust you?”

Billie meets his gaze. “Because I have insider info. I know what’s happening out there, with Sam and Dean. And Jack.”

Cas knows it could be a trick, he does, but he can’t help his curiosity. “Are they alright?” 

Billie takes a look at Crowley and Meg then before looking back at Cas. “Let me out and I’ll tell you everything I know.” 

Cas immediately looks to Meg. She uses the last bit of angel grace she has manipulated and frees Billie from her cage. “Okay, you’re free. Are they alright?” 

“Hm, snookums, I think the chat will have to wait.” Crowley calls back. He’s peeking up the last set of stairs until freedom, and it’s then that Cas hears voices and footsteps. “We’ve got company.” 

The fight is rough and quick. Cas and Meg go out first, angel blade and blade fragment in hand. He tosses his first kill to Crowley, who catches him and pries the blade out of his weakening grasp. Meg does the same with Billie (albeit a bit more roughly) and they fight back to back. Cas battles at two angels at once, ending one with an uppercut to the chin and dodging the other. Meg lodges her blade fragment in the knee of her opponent and uses his own blade to kill him. Crowley sidesteps the angel running at him and shoves him up against the building to slit his throat. Grace oozes out and he wipes his blade in it, flicking the liquid at the feet of the angel attacking Billie. The ground under them burns and dissolves, giving Billie the moment she needed to take her kill. A few minutes later Hester and her closest rush outside to see the commotion. They start toward them immediately and Billie shouts to alert them. 

“Clarence, retreat!” Cas is too caught up grappling with a larger angel that he doesn’t notice the advance. Meg steps in and tosses him off. She yanks Cas back by the arm and he stumbles into a run with Crowley and Billie. They sprint off in the direction of the closest scuffle, losing their captors in a sea of skirmishing entities. It isn’t until they pass another such grouping that they stop to breathe.

“Fuck.” Billie breathes. It makes Meg laugh, which makes Billie almost smile. 

“You said it, sister.” 

“We’re out.” Cas repeats. He didn’t think they would get this far. “Let’s hope they give up.” 

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “On the Empty’s orders. Sorry Cas, but fat chance.” 

Billie nods her agreement. “The Empty is bolstering them with every ounce of hope it sucks from the rest. They’ll keep going as much as we want to stop.” 

It sobers the group quickly, as they all realize it’s true. They want to stop running. Their heads tell them all in different voices, but they all say the same thing: it’s hopeless. Give up. Give in. Lay down and die.

“Too bad. I was hoping the little bitches would get tired.” Cas gives Meg a tired smile before he remembers what Billie had promised.

“You said you could sense what happened to the Winchesters, to Jack. Billie, are they alright? Did they defeat Chuck?” 

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway? Why do you get extra juice?”

Crowley levels Meg with a withering glare. “She was Death.” 

“Until recently.” Billie adds, glancing at Cas with an indecipherable expression. 

Meg blinks. “Oh. Alright.” No comeback for that one.

“What do you know?” 

Billie sighs. “I can sense Chuck. He’s… redistributed.” She massages her temple, obviously trying to mine information. “Into Jack. Jack is… in heaven.” 

“ _ He’s dead?”  _ Cas’s stomach drops out of his body. Billie quickly shakes her head. 

“No, he’s… different. He’s alive.” Cas exhales in relief. “Castiel, Jack is more powerful than ever before.” 

Cas frowns at her. “So you’re saying he’s… God, now?” 

“ _ Your bloody kid is God? _ ” Crowley interrupts incredulously. 

“Your what-now?”

“Then why hasn’t he flown us out of here?” Crowley seems enraged. Meg is flabbergasted. Cas holds them both off as he thinks. 

“Something’s wrong.” he mutters.

_ Yes. I’m dead. Billie’s wrong.  _ Cas knows it isn’t really Jack, but his head snaps up anyway. His child is standing stiffly a few feet away, bright eyes fixed on Cas.  _ You didn’t save me. You just left me there, alone. How could you do that, Cas? You told Kelly you would protect me, you promised! _

“Jack would have… he would have saved me. Something’s wrong.” Cas nods. Jack saved him from the Empty before they’d even met, there is no way an even-more-powerful Jack wouldn’t do the same immediately. Either he is being manipulated or there is something wrong with him, and Cas will settle for neither. “We need to get out of here ourselves,” he says firmly. He looks up and says it to the Empty’s version of Jack, bright, lifeless eyes, so unlike his kid’s. 

_ You’ll never make it.  _

We have to try.


	7. Gallows Pole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while  
> I think I see my brother coming  
> Riding a many mile  
> Brother, did you get me some silver?  
> Did you get a little gold?  
> What did you bring me, my brother  
> To keep me from the gallows pole?
> 
> Your brother brought me silver  
> Your sister warmed my soul  
> But now I laugh and pull so hard  
> And see you swinging on the gallows pole, yeah  
> But now I laugh and pull so hard  
> And see you swinging on the gallows pole, pole, pole

Sam sobs. He can’t help it; he can’t do anything else. His big brother’s body is impaled on the post in front of him, the ground is littered with beheaded bodies, and two little boys are crying outside somewhere in the dark. And he can’t stop crying.

“It’s not okay. It’s not!” 

He tries to take back those words that had made his brother leave, but Dean's chest doesn’t shudder back into life, and it won’t. It hangs there, heavy and lifeless, and it always will. Dean is dead. 

And for what?

When Sam’s head starts to pound from the tears, he finally takes breaths to calm himself. Common sense floods back into his head and overtakes his grief, and he pulls Dean’s body off the stupid rusty nail that killed him. He lowers him to the ground and closes his eyes, because he can’t bear to look at his dead stare any longer. 

He doesn’t want to leave the barn. He knows he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave his brother there all alone. That’s what Dean had always been most afraid of: being alone. He stands frozen to the spot for more minutes than he should, trying to reason with his grief. Finally, finally, he wins, and he turns around to see his breath in the air before him. Sam immediately gasps, another desperate sob coming from nowhere, because the night isn’t cold enough for that.

“Dean?” He screams it. “Dean!” It’s gotta be him, Dean’s a ghost, Dean’s here, Dean’s trying to talk to him. “Dean!” 

“No, I’m sorry, Sam.” Kevin Tran flickers to form in front of him, pity and sadness in his eyes. “But Dean’s okay.” 

Sam rubs his eyes. He thinks for a second he’s hallucinating again, that losing Dean for real broke down all the sanity he’d built over the years. “K-Kevin?” Though he didn’t know it was possible, his stomach takes yet another plunge, like a boulder has just been dropped on him. Kevin’s incorporeal form shakes into being the thought once more that  _ he did that, his hands killed Kevin, he’s the reason Kevin is a ghost _ . He’s in a room with the corpse and untethered soul of two people he loves and watched die. 

As if sensing all the ways Sam is shaking apart, Kevin nods and starts to reach out before realizing it would be no use. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me.” 

“But- w-w why?” Sam curses his voice for failing him, curses the shaking that sobbing left him with, curses it because he needs to be strong now. For Dean. “Why didn’t you help us?” A ghost would’ve been a great thing to have in a fight! A ghost could probably, I don’t know, push Dean away from a deadly-sharp hook on the wall? If Kevin has been here, why- “Is Dean in the veil? Can he hear me? Dean!” 

Kevin throws a gust of air in his face to get his attention, and it hits Sam like a slap. He looks back at the ghost, wideyed. Kevin looks apologetic. “I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to calm down. Seriously.”

“I can’t calm down-”

“No, Sam, you  _ need  _ to calm down.” Kevin looks upward nervously, as if he’s expecting to see some big figure raise the roof of the barnhouse up and peek down at them. “I’ll explain, but first thing you need to know is: Dean’s dead. He’s in heaven, and he’s in trouble.” 

\---------------------------

Sam drives the Impala at exactly the speed limit, eyes dried to the point of aching. Dean’s wrapped body is sprawled out in the back seat, and if Sam just glances in the rearview mirror he can almost pretend he’s just passed out. Just had one too many shots of Cuervo and conked out so his little brother can drive. Sure. Whatever gets you through the night. 

Dropping off the kids was easy. Traumatized kids don’t say much, don’t ask too many questions, and they’ll forget the shellshocked stranger that saved them soon enough. Either that or he will haunt their nightmares, but Sam can’t help that. He can’t help anyone at this point, covered in dirt and blood and exhausted. He drives out to the middle of the forest anyway, Kevin’s words on a loop in his head. 

_ “You have to be normal. Chuck can’t want to watch you at all. So just play into his game. Pretend to only care about Dean, get out of the life, settle down.” _

_ Sam had frowned, Eileen instantly springing to his mind. Surely he can care about her, right? “But-”  _

_ “No, Sam, I’m sorry. Dean told me to tell you that Eileen… it’s just too dangerous. He likes you two. He’s gotta hate your life so much he doesn’t want to see it. It’s gotta bore him.”  _

So Sam burns his brother's body in a forest alone, with only Miracle for company. There’s a dagger in his chest that tells him he’s betraying everyone he cares about, including Dean. Dean wanted a big funeral. He wanted his whole family there, not just his brother and a dog. And Eileen. There are three unread texts and a missed video call from Eileen already. Apparently Kevin hadn’t visited her yet. To let her know. 

It doesn’t take Sam long to leave the bunker. It just feels like a punch to the gut at this point. That table over there, carved with their family’s names, that’s where he and Dean swore they’d be free. They swore they’d get everything they wanted and everything they deserved. And now Sam has one pillow on his bed and an empty bunker full of the possessions of dead people. 

He knows there is a plan. He knows that. And it should comfort him, but it doesn’t, because he still has to live his long, boring, lonely life without the woman he loves or the family he misses or the brother he mourns. Time on Earth is torturously slow. 

The small things make the ache in his heart just a little lighter. He finds a job he likes, teaching history and the classics to teenagers. He remembers his old English teacher, and he tries to be that to kids that need it, kids that remind him of Claire or Jack. He gets to see Jody and the girls once every few years, a risk that he knows is worth it because it keeps him going. He can’t see Eileen. It would hurt too much. They both agreed the one time they called. He keeps learning ASL anyway, and he tells the story of him and Eileen meeting (slightly modified) to the kids in his class. 

He finds a wife. It was one of the things he put off, but after three years he knows he has to get on with it or he’ll get depressed. He needs someone, even if she is boring and too-nice and entirely too gullible. She’s nice and he’s good to her, but he can’t love her because she’s not real. Not in the way that Eileen is. She might as well be a blurred out mother figure action doll, for all she knows. And he hates himself for marrying her, when she deserves someone who finds her boringness interesting, but he knows this is what Chuck expects. He expects Sam to marry a nice woman and have a kid named Dean and grow old always hurting for the old times. Oh, and Sam does. 

He’d rather be back in the pit with Lucifer than this domestic djinn dream, but he reminds himself every day that someday they’re going to get rid of Chuck and then he’ll be able to live. Dean too. Cas too. And Jack. Sam’s going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing he does, living or dead. And it looks like it’ll be dead.

His fiftieth birthday has come and gone when Kevin finally comes back. The lights in Sam’s classroom flicker and go out, and then Kevin is there, chest heaving. He runs to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of chalk, and Sam’s talking as he writes. 

“Kevin, how’s Dean? Any updates on what’s happening in heaven? Is Chu-Jack okay?”

Kevin turns around, irritated, until he sees the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, listen, everything is… fine. We’re working on it. Look, the important thing is that you get these ingredients-” he points to the chalkboard, “and perform the spell. But listen, it’s gotta be next week. Friday. There’s a full moon, it’s… you gotta make it happen.” 

Sam’s eyes bulge. “Friday? Kevin, what the hell, a little notice would be nice! How am I supposed to get-” he looks past him to the hastily written ingredients. “These ingredients are insane! It’lll take me weeks just to fly around the fucking world to grab them!” 

Kevin throws his hands up, looking almost as stressed as Sam. “Listen, man, we’re doing our best up there! Time is fucked up and we’re trying to be sneaky and it is  _ a lot of pressure!”  _ he finally takes a deep breath, which seems to help. “I’m sorry, I know it’s too much to ask, but we have no choice. Call a witch friend for the ingredients, summon Rowena and let her in on the plan. It’s Friday or never.” 

He flickers out before Sam can even reply. Apparently the stress and talking like that took too much out of him. Sam’s left alone to say “Sorry,” to an empty classroom. He sits down heavily at his desk and runs a hand through his graying hair. 

He copies down the ingredients and the spell and it’s then that he knows he definitely needs help. Luckily, he knows who to call. 

The phone rings so long Sam thinks about hanging up, but he picks up just before he can. “Sam!” Max sounds winded, and the first thought that enters Sam’s head is  _ not  _ appropriate for the occasion. 

“Hey Max, you got a second? You’re not…” busy? Jesus, Sam is blushing.

Max laughs. “Nah, you’re good, man. What’s up?” 

God, to speak to someone who understands his life again. To really get to  _ talk  _ to them. “Uh, it’s kinda not the kind of thing to talk about over the phone. Can I drive to you?” 

\---------------------------------------

“Hey, Rowena,” 

Sam’s natural state is apparently social awkwardness now. Dean would say that had always been true… No, not the time to get sidetracked with that sad shit. He shuffles his feet again and adjusts a candle, waiting for Rowena to appear. He’s fifty fucking years old. He’s fine.

“Hello, dearie.” 

Sam grins at her, but is once again met with the sad eyes Kevin always gives him. “Fuck, can everybody stop with the dead brother horrible life shit?” She doesn’t look taken aback, no that’s not Rowena. She looks more like a school principal that just got told off by an 8th grader, surprised and a little offended. Sam softens a little bit. “Sorry, I just- listen, I get it, okay? My life is fucked up and it’s all a lie to beat God, I know. Can we move past that and get back to the saving the world stuff?” 

A slow smile spreads across Rowena’s face, and she pats him on the cheek. “There she is. Hello, Samuel.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hi Rowena, how are you?” 

“Oh, just dandy. Tamped down a few ne’er-do-wells, not a problem. Being worshipped every day is hard work, but I manage, somehow.” 

“I’m sure. ‘Jack’ giving you any trouble?” 

She waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve barely seen the boy since he took over. Apparently he’s much more interested in watching his little short films in heaven than anything down below…” Sam’s got a question on his lips but she waves that away too. Too little time to explain the intricacies of eternal family drama that heaven is currently. “It doesn’t matter. I have free reign, which means I can pop in for our little soirees.” 

Sam nods, grateful that that’s true at least. He hands her the list of ingredients and the spell and watches as she studies it. “Problem?” 

“Hm. No, I can do that.” She looks up brightly at him. “I’m the greatest witch of all time, Samuel. I’m more worried about how you will accomplish it.” She looks down at his summoning ritual and bends down to correct a chalk mark with her finger. “You’re a wee bit rusty.” 

Sam scoffs. He’s missed this. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I called up my friend Max, Max Banes. He’s going to help me out.” 

“Max Banes? Hm.” For a second, Sam thought he saw something flash across Rowena’s face.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She shrugs it off. “I’ve heard of the witch, that’s all. He’ll be good help for you, I’m sure. Now, Samuel, if you’ll excuse me… Underworlds to run and all that.” She steps away, but Sam stops her before she can disappear again.   
  


“Wait!” He hugs her tightly. She only resists for a moment before she returns the hug, a light tap on his shoulder. “Thank you, Rowena.” 

“Of course, Samuel. Until next time.” 

She’s gone with a puff of smoke and Sam is left hugging air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sam-centric chapter on the day the hivemind created lawboy lol


	8. Send Me An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here I am  
> Will you send me an angel?  
> Here I am   
> In the land of the morning star  
> Wise man said just raise your hand  
> And reach out for the spell  
> Find the door to the promised land  
> Just believe in yourself  
> Hear this voice from deep inside  
> It's the call of your heart  
> Close your eyes and you will find  
> The way out of the dark

“Alright, time to pick our teams.” 

“Are we letting everybody out or just the ones that’ll help us?” 

“D’you really think we’ll be able to control who gets out? I mean this spell ain’t exactly a velvet rope.” Charlie frowns, knowing Ash is right. It doesn’t make the plan any easier, though. Dean’s just rolling with the punches at this point, so the conclusion doesn’t phase him. 

“Mm, stand there with a big stick and yell ‘you shall not pass’ at any squirrely motherfuckers?” Ash and Dean snort at the joke. 

“Alright, so we open the floodgates and get as many out as we can before the Empty shuts us down.” Dean claps his hands together and thinks. “Then we just need to convince all those dead sons of bitches to help gank God.”

“I mean, the demons should be easy enough to win over, right?” 

“I dunno, it’s not like we can give them much in return.” Charlie points out. “Unless… well, if we could get some of the top dogs, they’d probably bring along their minions.” 

Dean nods at her. Smart. “Cool. So, we can get… Crowley for the demons-”

“He’ll go along with that?” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. His life is fucking bonkers that he can say it but, “Yeah, Crowley’s a friend. He’ll help us out. Besides, he hates Chuck’s guts just by principle.” Ash and Charlie grin. Okay, Crowley’s sway should get them enough demon juice, but angels? “Problem is the choir boys. And girls. And… the angels.” 

“Yeah, nobody up here likes Cas too much.” Ash confirms, tapping his laptop where the angel radio is still open. “I’m pretty sure the dude’s like a slur at this point.” 

Dean snorts. Figures. Dickheads. 

“What about the archangels?” Charlie suggests. “Seems like they’re the next best bet.” 

Dean has to agree, but, at the same time- “We can get Gabriel, but he’s been off the grid for fucking centuries. I dunno how much sway he’s got with his siblings.” 

Ash leans back. “Well, that, leaves… Michael, Raphael, and Lucifer.” 

“Well, Lucifer’s a no-go, obviously.” 

“Yeah, no.” Dean agrees quickly. “Nobody wants to see that motherfucker’s face again. I’ll kick that asshole back in myself.” Lucifer had betrayed them too many times to even think about getting an alliance back. Not to mention the bullshit he’d bring up for Cas, Sam, and Jack. 

“What about the other ones? Raphael had that whole-ass war with Cas over the apocalypse, so he’s probably not too friendly to us.” 

“Which leaves Daddy’s little bitch boy.” Dean grits his teeth against the thought. Why did it always come down to goddamn Michael? “Although last thing Chuck did was kill the dude, so he might come around.” 

“What about Adam?” Charlie sits up, light of an idea behind her eyes. 

Dean furrows his brow. “What about him?” 

“Well, you said he and Michael were pretty tight. Maybe he can help us get Michael on board.” Dean stares at her. 

“You’re a fucking genius. Ash?” 

Ash waves an arm at them from where his head is already buried in his screen. “On it!” 

It doesn’t take Ash long to figure out where Adam’s holed up through the mainframe. “Looks like he’s living next to his mom, not too far from here.” He looks at Dean quickly before adding, “They usually keep families pretty close together.” 

Dean nods, not looking at him. He knows Ash’s thinking that Dean can’t go see his parents even if he wanted to. Because, as Ash and Charlie told him gently, there’re rumors through heaven that John and Mary Winchester are just about the most volatile soulmates there are. Apparently Mary didn’t take too kindly to Actual John once she got back to heaven the second time. Something about “endangering her boys” that made Dean actually a little proud of his mom. That and apparently John didn’t take too kindly to Actual Mary after so many years of talking up her perfect memory. Either way, there’s nothing Chuck pays closer attention to than family drama, especially in Winchester form, so going anywhere near Mary or John would put him right in Chuck!Jack’s crosshairs.

“Let’s go.” 

\-------------------

“Hey Adam.” Dean pushes past Adam before his little brother can get out a word. Adam sighs and resigns himself to it, apparently, because he just follows Dean into his living room.

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Listen, I know you’re probably not too thrilled to see me…” Dean trails off. Adam really isn’t giving him anything. Stone face and crossed arms. 

“This is literal heaven. Unless you’re about to fuck with that…” his eyes narrow as he sees the shifty expression on Dean’s face. “You’re about to fuck with heaven.”

Dean holds his fingers up in a pinch. “A little bit?” 

Adam groans. “I will never fucking catch a break. What the hell, Dean? Heaven is perfect, look at-” 

“Dad been to visit you yet?” Dean asks abruptly.

Adam falters, looking out the window. “What does that have to do with anything?” Dean shakes his head and moves on.

“You’re not happy here, Adam.” Dean walks closer, trying to get the guy to look at him. “You know something’s up. This place? It doesn’t feel right. It feels like that Beautiful Room all over again, and you know it. If it were really paradise and shit, it would be different. He’d be here.” 

Adam finally looks at him. A kind of understanding passes between them, a look in the eyes. “What do you need me for?” 

Dean squeezes his arm. “If you can convince Michael to help us, I can get him out. Last time I saw him, he was pretty cut up between you and, y’know, duty. I think there’s a chance you can convince him to make the jump.” 

Adam looks doubtful. “You think he would?” 

Dean shrugs. “Mine did.” 


	9. I Wanna Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I load my pistol  
> Of fine German steel  
> I never thought I'd be so down and out  
> Having my last meal  
> But I know I can do it  
> It just took a few years  
> As I execute my killers  
> The morning is near  
> I give what I've got to give  
> I give what I need to live  
> I give what I've got to give  
> It's important if I wanna live  
> Well, I wanna live  
> I want to live my life  
> I wanna live  
> Well, I want to live my life  
> I wanna live

They can see the beginning of the crowd of ethereal fighting when they hear a screech behind them. Meg looks first. Hester and what’s left of her merry band of tightasses are running after them. “Fuck. Bitches, we gotta move.” 

Crowley grumbles at being called a bitch, but he grabs Cas by the trench coat anyway and ducks into the crowd with him. Meg and Billie go the opposite direction with a nod. Cas shrugs out of Crowley’s grip as he runs them into a pair of demons that are using exclusively teeth to attack each other. “What the hell, Crowley?” 

“They’re looking for four of us, grumpy. Now stop-” He takes a moment to stab a rampaging angel in the gut, “complaining. We’ll meet back up with the gals once the God Squad is off our tight little bums.” He slaps Cas on the ass and keeps going. Cas blinks a few times before following. 

They avoid fighting as much as possible, relying more on ducking and dodging than their blades. Eventually, Cas sees a cave up ahead and points Crowley to it. They still can’t see the weak spot in the Empty, but from the intensity of the horde, they can’t be too far off. The sounds of Hester’s garrison are distinguishable only by its piercingness and the holier-than-thou insults they throw with their punches.

Crowley pushes a whimpering demon out of the cave with a grunt and then they have a moment of peace. Well, a moment of non-fighting. The second Cas settles, a figure materializes out of the darkness that he eventually recognizes as his own. 

_ “Besides, you don’t want to go back.”  _ It only pauses for a second before continuing. “ _ Oh, save it. I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love… what you fear. There is nothing for you back there. No. Here. Let me show you.”  _

And then Cas’s head turns to fire with the images forced through it. 

\-------------------

Cas is lost and desperate, finally come clean about his unsavory alliance with Crowley, trying to save heaven. Bobby and Sam look at him like he’s the Devil himself, and he looks to Dean for mercy, for compassion. He looks to Dean for any understanding that all this lying, it was simply trying to spare Dean from his burdens. Instead, he looks at Cas like he doesn’t recognize him; finally, he has lost the one thing he wants the most. Dean leaves Cas in a ring of holy fire, guarded and stone-cold expression on his face. 

\------------------

Cas is dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, and he looks up to Dean as if he is the sun. Dean sighs and asks him to leave. Tells him to go. Cas sleeps on the streets and thinks of Dean’s warm bed.

\------------------

Dean lands punch after punch into Cas’s body. He throws him across the room while Cas refuses to fight and holds him to the ground with a dead look in his eyes. He brings the angel blade down one last time into the book next to Cas’s head, and then leaves, a flippant warning the last thing he says.

\------------------

Cas’s heart is breaking as he looks at Dean. “So then this is goodbye?” he asks, hurt seeping into his words. He doesn’t want it to be goodbye. He doesn’t want to believe that Dean could just leave without a word. He doesn’t want to believe that he truly means so little.

Dean can barely look at him. He turns away. 

\------------------

“The plan went wrong, Dean. Something went wrong. Something always goes wrong.” Again, Cas begs for understanding, knowing in his heart that this time is different. This time family is on the line. 

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?” 

Cas’s ears ring; he can’t even hear himself or Dean say whatever they said next. He only knows that he leaves, he can’t stay, and Dean doesn’t stop him.

\-----------------

Cas wrenches himself out of his thoughts. “I DON’T CARE.” he growls at a disbelieving Empty!Cas. “I don’t care if Dean doesn’t love me. I don’t care.” That’s not what he did this for; that’s not what he sacrificed himself for. He sacrificed himself because  _ he loves Dean  _ and because that is enough. But it’s more than that, because although he is at peace with his sacrifice, he does want out of this place. “I am going to get out of here. I’m going to get out of here and I’m going to raise Jack and I’m going to live!” Something swells up in him as he talks, just like it did when he was confessing his love to Dean. It feels like the truth, and it feels like freedom. “I want to see Sam again and I want to hang up hummingbird feeders and I want to taste a peanut butter and jelly sandwich again. I want to sing frivolous pop songs and learn how to garden and go out to coffee with Crowley and watch Claire Novak grow old. I want to live, damn it, and you won’t stop me.” 

“Cas. Cas! Castiel!” 

Crowley is shaking his shoulder. Cas finally looks at him, tearing his glance away from the Empty’s vision only for a second, but it disappears that quickly. The spell is broken, and Cas sinks down onto the ground, exhausted. The mental wear of fighting the Empty is far more than any physical battle he’s been in. 

Crowley kneels in front of him, genuine concern looking bizarre on his grizzled features. “You with me, mate?” 

“Yes. Yes.” Cas breathes. “Thank you.” 

Crowley pats him on the shoulder awkwardly. “What the bloody hell was all that?” Cas looks down, not wanting to rehash it. It doesn’t seem he needs to, however, considering the look Crowley is giving him. He had heard all of Cas’s replies, after all. “Castiel, you oaf, Dean Winchester is an insufferable bastard, and he loves you. Can’t believe  _ you _ love  _ him _ . Guess you can’t account for taste.” 

Cas laughs. “So do you.” It’s a deflection.

Crowley rolls his eyes, the action a little performative. “Yes, yes, I love you very much.” 

“No, I-”

“I know what you mean, Castiel.” Crowley gives him the slightest sad grin. “So you want to go to coffee sometime, eh?” 

Cas rubs at his face. Saying so seems so odd now, but in the heat of the moment? Yes. “Perhaps with alcohol in it.” He might need it, if he’s going to “hang” with the former King of Hell. “You’ve proved yourself a steadfast and not totally unbearable ally.” he says sincerely. Hell, he’s halfway to calling Crowley a friend.

Crowley makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat, his eyes flicking back over Cas’s shoulder once more, this time with an air of victory. His own visions seemingly quelled for now, he returns his attention to Cas. “You really think Dean doesn’t-”

“Crowley, it’s not important.” 

“Obviously it is.” He rolls his eyes at the angel. “Feathers, like I was saying earlier, I’ve been around every time the big lump loses you. It’s fucking pathetic.” 

“I can second that.” Billie steps in from the chaos looking worse for wear but ultimately uninjured. Meg hauls a couple dead angels in front of the cave as cover before she joins them. “Dean Winchester came to see me after you died.” Billie meets Cas’s eyes. She has no reason to want to make Cas feel better, especially about this; after all, Cas’s love for Dean is the reason she is here. “He wanted to die.” 

That. That turns Cas’s insides to rubber. He knows that Dean has wanted to die, wants to die still sometimes, but… the idea his absence could bring Dean to such a low point feels… awful. Meg settles down next to him and Cas spares her a shell-shocked glance. She raises her eyebrows and quirks her lips. “Sounds like he loves ya, kid.” 

Cas can’t bring himself to comment on the matter. “I’m older than you.” he says instead. She rolls her eyes. So Dean cares about him. Values him. Wants him around. But that doesn’t mean that he wants… what Cas wants with him.

They all sit there in silence a moment before Billie finally stands. “Fantastic. Are we done therapizing an angel?” 

Crowley snorts and gives her a look of grudging respect. “Guess so. You stiffs ready to get out of here?” 

Meg grabs onto Cas and pulls him to his feet. He nods at her in thanks and she gives him a soft smile. “Let’s get out of here.” Cas agrees. He has things to do. People he wants to spend time with. Feelings he wants to experience. 

Living to do.

They get all the way to the mouth of the cave before they see Hester and her goons blocking their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna support my work and help me pay my bills see me on kofi: https://ko-fi.com/casperthefriendlyghost


	10. Strange Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange brew  
> Kill what's inside of you
> 
> She's some kind of demon messin' in the glue  
> If you don't watch out it'll stick to you  
> To you  
> What kind of fool are you?
> 
> Strange brew  
> Kill what's inside of you
> 
> On a boat in the middle of a raging sea  
> She would make a scene for it all to be  
> Ignored  
> And wouldn't you be bored?
> 
> Strange brew  
> Kill what's inside of you

  
  


Sam has never been more glad to see a familiar face. It hurts him so fucking bad to be not be able to see the people he loves, and he would be lying if he didn’t have a steady little line of resentment rolling in the back of his head from it. It’s for this reason that he nearly tackles Max Barnes the second he gets within range of the guy. 

Max chuckles and returns his embrace, pulling away after a moment. “Sam Winchester. Great to see you.” Max’s eyes twinkle with his signature charm, and it almost reminds Sam of Dean before he went to hell.

“You too, man, you too.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How’ve you been? Still hunting?”

He nods, his smile dropping slightly. “No way out, you know that. Least, you did.” He raises an eyebrow at Sam. “Is it true? You’re a teacher now?” 

Sam’s face twists into something he tries to pass off as content. He has a feeling it works miserably. “Yeah, high school. It’s not so bad; I got a kid.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yep, Dean Jackson Singer. We call him Jackson.” Sam whips out an obligatory photo on his phone, posing happily with a baseball trophy, decked out in a very dirty uniform and all. Max laughs at the amount of sand in the kid’s hair and looks back up at Sam, his look one Sam would only describe as wistful. He clears his throat and looks away. “What about you? Got a... family or anything?” The second part of the sentence gets significantly quieter as Sam watches the expression on Max’s face sour further. He’s forcibly reminded of the last time he saw Max, with Dean. When Max’s mom and sister died, and he had to watch them burn on a pyre. 

“Nope… not for me.” He shrugs. 

“So you’re… on your own?” It’s amazing he hasn’t gotten killed by now, hunting alone. Damn. The corner of Max’s mouth turns up in a smirk and he winks. 

“Not every night.” 

Sam coughs out a laugh. “Yeah well, glad you’re with me on this one. It’s been a while since I studied with Rowena, and I’m not sure I could do as complicated a spell as this myself- even with batshit ingredients.” 

Max waves off his thanks and grabs his bag of stuff out of his car, leaving Sam to follow him into the lake-shore cabin. Sam sends a last glance to the spot where Jack opened a rift, struck with the stupid significance of the spot. He misses his kid. He sighs and moves on. This will make it alright. This will get Jack back. 

“I’m guessing you’re not gonna fill me in on what this is about? I’ve never even heard of this spell, and that’s saying something. Plus, is it-” he pauses, seeing the purposefully blank expression on Sam’s face. “You’re not going to tell me. Yeah, okay. It’s cool.” 

“Thanks for understanding, Max.” Sam is so tired of the lying and hiding. He has to do it every day of his life with his own family, for fuck’s sake, he hates doing it to Max too.

Sam lays out the spell, copied down just as Kevin relayed it to him. Or, more accurately, the third of the spell he was responsible for. They work in relative silence for the first half hour, Max correcting small mistakes in Sam’s technique or asking to pass the blackroot. It’s peaceful and nice and Sam hasn’t felt so in tune with anybody in a long time. It reminds him of making spells with Rowena, or even Eileen, and that makes him ache. It also makes him appreciate Max’s gentle teasing about his magic skills.

Finally they have to let the items stew, no other preparation to put in place. Sam sits down on an old box of questionable structural integrity, which thank god doesn’t throw him on his ass. At this point, he’s not sure he can take more aches and pains. Max squeezes next to him on the box with exaggerated movements, and Sam laughs, watching the witch pull things out of his bag. He holds them up for Sam to see, an eyebrow raised in challenge. 

“Schnapps and… absinthe? Dude, really?” 

Max grins and shrugs, screwing open the butterscotch schnapps and swigging it straight from the bottle. “I’m a gay witch, Sam, I gotta live up to it,” he answers, passing the bottle to Sam. Sam rolls his eyes and swigs it anyway, not sure what he’s saying about himself with the drink. They sit like that for a while, watching the bubbling formula in the corner and each trying to pretend their not drinking about something. “So how are you really doing, Sam? With… everything. Dean gone,” Max looks at him haltingly. 

Sam holds out his hand and Max passes the bottle accordingly. Sam takes a long drag before he answers. “It sucks, Max. My life fucking sucks. But it’s supposed to, and I can’t tell you why, but hopefully I’ll get to fix everything really godddamn soon.” he puts bitter emphasis into ‘goddamn’ cursing Chuck with every fiber of his being that he ever prayed to that son of a bitch. “But, with Dean… well, I hope he’s been happier than me. And I… I’m glad we at least got... “ It feels terrible to say. Sam seals his mouth shut and looks down. Max uses a finger to turn Sam’s jaw back to him. 

“What is it?”

Max’s eyes are really intense and full of genuine care, and his face is softened with age. It distracts Sam for a second before he gets his thoughts together. “It sucks.” He repeats, like he’s warning Max.

Max gives a bitter smile. “Everything does.”

Sam snorts and looks down again. This time, Max lets him. “I’m glad I didn’t try to save him. I know… I’m not glad he’s dead and I’m not glad any of this is the way it is but- at least I didn’t make another deal. At least I let him go.” Sam’s proud of that. He really is. He looks over at Max and his blood goes cold, because Max’s face is clouded over and unreadable. He curses himself; Max could’ve made a deal for Alicia and didn’t. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe he regrets it. Maybe he still blames himself that Alicia’s dead. “I’m sorry, I know Alic-”

“It’s okay.” Max says quickly. 

“No, I didn’t mean to-”

“Sam.” Max’s voice goes sharp and he swallows thickly. Sam goes quiet beside him. He reaches an awkward hand out and squeezes Max’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “It’s not that,” he sniffs, pulls himself back together and apparently dries his eyes. “Sam-”

Max looks at Sam, and Sam looks back, and they stare. Max doesn’t say anything. He looks scared and he looks alone, and it reminds Sam of Dean. 

“Nah, nevermind,” he says quickly. Sam starts to protest, but he’s cut off. “Woah!” Sam follows his eyeline to see Kevin Tran’s ghost standing there rubbing his arm awkwardly. 

“Sorry to uh… butt in, guys, but-”

“It’s time?” Sam stands quickly, all thoughts of Max’s fear forgotten in the moment. His mind is back on this spell, and Dean, and Chuck. 

“It’s time.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short one so you're getting too chapters today! also full disclosure this is not beta-ed (it has been the hardest for me to write) and i wrote and edited it high so !! you get what you get. stayed tuned for the next chapter!


	11. Hotel California

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I was thinking to myself  
> "This could be Heaven or this could be Hell"  
> Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bens  
> She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends  
> How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat  
> Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
> 
> So I called up the Captain  
> "Please bring me my wine."  
> He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969"  
> And still those voices are calling from far away  
> Wake you up in the middle of the night  
> Just to hear them say
> 
> Mirrors on the ceiling  
> The pink champagne on ice  
> And she said "We are all just prisoners here, of our own device"  
> And in the master's chambers  
> They gathered for the feast  
> They stab it with their steely knives  
> But they just can't kill the beast
> 
> Last thing I remember  
> I was running for the door  
> I had to find the passage back to the place I was before  
> "Relax," said the night man  
> "We are programmed to receive  
> You can check-out any time you like  
> But you can never leave!"

  
  


Dean gets more nervous as the time gets closer. It’s ridiculous; his hands are shaking as he reinforces the Heaven!Bunker’s God warding. Pamela notices first, because of course she does. Dean looks around from his precarious position on the very top  _ do not step  _ step of the ladder to see Pamela’s unseeing eyes just  _ looking  _ at him. “Problem?”

“Just enjoying the view.” She jokes immediately, and Dean almost blushes before he realizes she literally can’t see his ass in his jeans or the bit of skin peeking out from where his shirt is riding up.  _ She’s blind, dumbass.  _ “You doing alright?” 

He presses his lips together and tries to come up with an answer. “Am I supposed to be?” Dean holds onto the paint in his hand and waits for an answer because, well, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what Pamela wants him to be, and he knows that she’ll see right through him anyway. Metaphorically.

She lays out on the floor beneath him instead, arms folded under her head. “Since when has that ever factored in?” She grins. “Your aura is funky. Vibrating.” 

Dean snorts and forgets to be guarded. Maybe he doesn’t need to be. “Yeah, well, my hands are too.” He sighs and looks up at the wards. “We’re about to go up against God, again, and I couldn’t give less of a damn.” He’s insane, that’s what it is. Just so fucked up his priorities are scrambled. 

Pamela doesn’t seem to think so. She tilts her head to the side thoughtfully, a move that reminds Dean of the thing he’s so nervous about. “Eh, if we lose here, sugar, we don’t have anything to be afraid of. More like-” she claps. “Dead. For real, this time. But if we win, well… living’s a lot more complicated.” 

“Pamela, if you weren’t so hot, I’d say you were fucking wise.” 

Pamela laughs. “I got multitudes, baby.” 

Dean drags himself down the ladder and lays down next to her. “Maybe. Yo Pam-” Pamela ships a hand over and slaps him on the side for the nickname- “Ow! I wanna ask… you know how this heaven stuff works a little bit, right?” 

She tilts her head from side to side. “A little bit, sure.” 

Good enough for him. “So, what would it mean if I was, like… seeing somebody?” Dean would assume he’s just hallucinating to give himself hope, but seeing Cas so torn up and tired and broken didn’t give him much of anything except pain.

Pamela clicks her tongue and thinks, eyebrows furrowed. “Now that is a puzzle.”

“Seeing somebody like with my eyes. Not… dating.” Dean doesn’t know why he adds it, he doesn’t  _ know _ , of course Pamela already got that, of course she did. She swivels her head over to deadpan at him. Which he deserves, and he blushes pink. 

“No kidding.” He stays quiet, too embarrassed to say anything else. Pamela mercifully moves on. “Let’s see, we’re dead, so… technically, we might be able to get prayers. People talk to their loved ones, their ancestors, all the time. Maybe we can hear ‘em. Or see ‘em.”

Dean stays looking at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the strokes he’d just made with his paintbrush. Cas was… praying to him?

He clears his throat and gets up, lending a hand down to help Pamela up, grateful that she couldn’t see the wetness in his eyes. “So you’re saying I’m Allie and I’ve got a Noah sending me letters.” 

Pamela rolls her eyes and snorts a laugh. “Sure, kid.” 

\----------------------

Ash starts laughing at the first chord. Charlie and Pamela join in after the third. Dean grins as Charlie reaches across the seat to sock him in the shoulder, and he gives her a shrug. “Had to do it!” he yells over the music. 

The dulcet tones of Hotel California are fading out just as the pull in front of the place (Dean timed it ahead of course) and Dean grins at his friends crowded into his car. “Hotel California.” He introduces it even though he’s never been, because he’s researched and looked at pictures so many times he would recognize the humble green motel anywhere. 

He meant to go, years ago. It was gonna be his present to himself for turning 18, a month long vacation down route 66 ending in with Hotel California, of course blasting the song through Baby’s speakers just as he had. But then Sam was only 14 and he was going through an angsty stage, and the idea of leaving a mouthy rebellious teenager alone with his dad for a month… it just didn’t happen.

“Alright, Hotel California!” Ash whoops and swings himself out of the car. He pulls Pamela along after him, and she hops on his back. Dean and Charlie follow after them. Dean’s pretty sure it’s their nerves that’s causing them to act like teens on spring break. But it’s fun, so he doesn’t say anything.

The room is surprisingly normal for being part of a legendary rock song. It’s a suite, all the furniture pushed up against the colorful walls so they have space for the spell. Dean stretches out on the bed and thinks about what Cas would think of this. 

\-----------

The first time he made him listen to Hotel California by the Eagles, Cas sat there with this pensive expression on his face, like he was actually analysing the freaking song. 

“Cas, just… listen to the song.” Dean tapped him on the leg, and Cas looked confused. It was adorable. 

“I am listening to it.”    
  


“No, I mean-” he sighed and sat back, trying to get a grip of what he was saying. “Here, drive.” He reached over and popped the cassette out, waiting for Cas to start moving. Cas didn’t. “Come on,” he insisted, shoving open the door and walking around to the passenger side. Cas swapped with him, eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. They got back in, Cas started driving at Dean’s behest, and Dean started the song over. “Now, don’t think about the song, just… listen.” 

Cas nodded, a little smile pulling at the side of his face. He drove like an insane person, but Dean let him, just this once, so he could watch his friend discover the song the right way. Just letting it flow through you, focused on something else. Maybe Dean was biased because that’s how he heard all of his music the first time, but he didn’t care. Cas’s head nodded to the beat of the music, lips spread out in a soft smile. He looked over at Dean at the chorus. “This is nice.” 

He sounded so earnest. “Sh, listen.” Dean bit his lip out of a smile and looked forward again. Yes, it was.

\-------------

“You ready?” Ash looks at him skeptically. Dean gives him a shit-eating grin straight out of his deepest depression, hands shaking.

“Hell yeah I am.” 

Charlie squeezes his hand before stepping away and Pamela gives him a slap on the ass that Kevin laughs out loud at. “Let’s do it then.” 

“We’ll be right here when you get back.” Charlie promises. Dean gives her a shaky nod.

“And then we’ll hightail it back to the bunker with the rejects.” Ash reminds him. Dean gives him a finger gun.

The portal opens up. 

Dean steps through.

The Empty is packed. The second the portal opens and Dean stops dead. So do all the rest. The whole of the crowd in the Empty stops and turns to look at Dean Winchester. Dean gives a nervous grin and clears his throat. 

“Hey,”

A single voice calls out from the silence “what are you doing here?” and then they all join in, shouting and jeering at him. Dean steadies himself, reminding himself for the thousandth time since he started driving to Hotel California: Cas is here. Cas is here. He’s so close, and Dean’s gonna get him back. That gives him enough courage to start talking.

“Yeah, yeah, shuddup.” 

Surprisingly, they listen. 

“Alright, here’s the deal.” he claps his hands together, looking around like a football coach at the big game. He can pick out a couple of faces, recognizes a demon he killed there and an angel he killed here, and he’s just thinking that maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all when he remembers why he’s here. “I’m looking for Michael. And Gabriel. And Crowley. And anybody else that’s willing to fight against Chuck. Chuck, y’know, God. The Big Cheese.” He waves an arm around. Sam was always the public speaker of the family. 

“You’re looking for me?” Michael pushes a few people aside so Dean can see him making his way to the front of the crowd. Dean helps him up the slope it appears he’s on and nods. He speaks to Michael loud enough everyone can hear as murmurs go through the group.

“I want to defeat Chuck. I want to overthrow him and I want us to be free- all of us. Your dad doesn’t give a shit about you, Michael, and he definitely doesn’t give a shit about any of the other angels. I mean, he  _ killed  _ you, man.” He claps the guy on the shoulder even though he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Michael doesn’t try to cold-cock him, so he figures he got through at least a little bit. Michael looks away, looks out at the crowd, and it’s then that Dean realizes he won’t get through like this. He lowers his voice so only the archangel can hear him. “Listen, Mikey, I want you on my team, I do, but you’re coming with me either way.” 

Michael looks up at him like he’d just threatened him. 

“No, no, I don’t mean… Adam. I promised Adam I’d bring you back.” He raises an eyebrow at Michael, whose expression stays stoic. “Portal’s that way.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder and returns his gaze to the audience. “Demons, Chuck’ll never let you do your thing. He’ll always be fucking with you. At least with him out of the picture, you’ll have a fair shot. Hunters’ll hunt you, the old deal.” He can’t believe he’s actually trying to reason with demons right now, but he’s gotta believe that if demons want one thing, it’s freedom. Hell, he would know. He’s been a demon.

Apparently, it resonates. He doesn’t see exactly who, but a pack of demons pass him before he can even try to vet them. The portal flickers once and Dean almost has a fucking heart attack before it evens out again, the light the only thing not Nothing in this place. It makes him feel incredibly… alone.

He turns around before he can fixate on that feeling, and Michael is coming toward him. He gives Dean a nod. “Adam?” 

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a little, but he gives a weak smile and nods back. “That way.” And Michael goes.    
  
“Deano! Look at you, looking a little chubby, don’t ya think?” Gabriel jumps up next to him with the exuberance of a 2 pm talk show host. 

“Jesus,” Dean mutters.

“Not quite, dumbo.” Gabriel grins and pinches Dean’s cheek. Dean squirms away, slapping at the archangel.

“Dude. You gonna help me or not?” 

Gabe rolls his eyes and drops his hands. “You’re no fun. Yes. Do I get to choose where to put the new Playboy Mansion?”

Dean actually manages a laugh. “If you can help us shove Chuck down the garbage disposal, go fucking crazy, man.” 

Gabriel claps his hands and jumps through the portal headfirst as it flickers once more. Dean recognizes Hannah passing him, then Alfie the freaking Wiener-Hut Angel, and Anna, among other angels and demons that filter past them. He’s left staring at the rest, who look like they’re considering mowing him down. Which, they probably are, until Gabriel and Michael show back up at his shoulders.

“You ready to go, Deano?” 

Dean glances at Gabe and swallows, nods. “Got one more person I gotta find.” 

He puts his hands together one last time. His heart is pounding and his hands feel sweaty even to each other. He closes his eyes, because he can’t freaking bare to have a horde of celestial beings look at him when he does this, and he prays. “Cas? Cas, I know you’re out there, buddy, and you gotta hear me, okay? Because we… we gotta talk, alright? We never finished talking. I need you… I need you to come back.”

He cracks open an eye. The crowd stares at him restlessly, murder in their eyes. No Cas. Dean swallows and shuts them again.

“Listen, Cas, I know you might be a ways off or something, but, um,” he chuckles nervously. “We kinda got a time limit here.” 

Opens his eyes again. His heart clenches and shudders to a stop. Cas still isn’t there. It doesn’t make sense; Dean  _ saw him.  _ He’s got to be here. 

“Cas? Cas!” He starts yelling, because he just doesn’t give a fuck about his audience anymore. “Cas, you dumb son of a bitch! Get here, right now man!” His voice cracks wide open and tears sting his eyes. 

“Dean.” It’s Michael’s voice, and he doesn’t care.

“Cas!” Dean rips his throat open trying to get his voice to carry. He prays as hard as he ever has in his life. “CAS!”

“Dean!” It’s Gabriel. 

“CASTIEL!” Cas, Cas, come on, you can’t leave it like this. I’m here for  _ you _ , damnit. 

“The portal’s shutting!” 

There’s no one there. Cas is gone, he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. 

“CAS!”

Michael and Gabriel grab his shoulders, and Dean is pulled back through the portal kicking and screaming Cas’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna support me/my writing, my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/casperthefriendlyghost or just share or comment; it keeps me going!


	12. See You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long day without you, my friend  
> And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again   
> We've come a long way   
> From where we began   
> Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again   
> When I see you again  
> First, you both go out your way and the vibe is feeling strong  
> And what's small turned to a friendship, a friendship turned to a bond  
> And that bond will never be broken, the love will never get lost
> 
> And when brotherhood come first, then the line will never be crossed  
> Established it on our own when that line had to be drawn  
> And that line is what we reached, so remember me when I'm gone
> 
> How can we not talk about family when family's all that we got?  
> Everything I went through you were standing there by my side  
> And now you gon' be with me for the last ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day late on the update, but somehow I think you'll forgive me. James told me my inner Dean girl (masc) came out in this chapter, so. Enjoy!

  
  
  


Dean falls flat on his ass on the other side of the portal, looking right at the thing as it blinks away and disappears for good. Way too many people are packed into the small space, and they all stare at him and the two archangels at his sides. 

Dean can’t breathe. He can’t think. All the fucking air has been sucked out of his lungs and he can’t believe it. He was so sure that Cas would be there, that he’d be holding onto that dumb trenchcoat by now… but he’s not.

Ash rushes at him before anyone else moves and pulls him up. “Time to haul ass, buddy.” He murmurs and Dean can’t even comprehend the way he wants to stay here forever, staring at the blank open space where Cas was supposed to come through. Charlie joins him then in helping Ash get his heavy ass up and at ‘em, and Pamela hustles everyone out the door and to their waiting stolen vans.

Dean drives Baby back, mostly because nobody else dares to try it. He goes just as fast as Ash and Charlie, does exactly what they’d planned. He manages. He somehow ends up with Hannah and a couple minor demons in his seats, and they all stare at him until he turns the radio up so loud it hurts his ears. 

Only Hannah tries once despite the noise. 

“Dean, I-”

Dean holds up his hand and Hannah silences immediately. 

They get to the bunker with what would be irreconcilable eardrum damage if not for the fact that they are either celestial beings or dead. He doesn’t have it in him to give a damn. The poor souls that got stuck with him as a driver bail as soon as he pulls into the bunker’s garage, and he feels like the asshole English teacher on a school field trip.

Dean has a bottle of whiskey in his hand when Charlie finds him. “Dean.” She says gently, and it makes him feel like a kid clinging to his sippy cup. 

“Now’s not a good time.” He keeps his eyes on the bottle, because he knows that maybe at the bottom of this bottle he can forget that he’s lost Cas forever. That he finally found out what he wanted, too late. Too late to save him. Hell, it’s not like he can drink himself to death. But maybe he can drink himself to oblivion. At least for tonight.

“Dean, that’s not heal-”   
  
“Gee, I didn’t FUCKING KNOW!” Dean roars at the bottle. He regrets it the moment he says it; he watches his surrogate sister flinch and it reminds him of all the times he did the same when he was a kid. 

Charlie sits at the edge of his bed anyway. Her hand creeps up the sheets slowly, like Dean’s a feral cat about to snap and crawl under the bed to hide. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past himself at this point. She stops when her hand’s on his thigh, palm up like she’s expecting him to put something in it. He doesn’t know if she wants the bottle or his hand. “We need you out there.”

Dean breathes in and a sob catches in it. He clenches his jaw, trying to even back out, and finally looks up at Charlie’s. “I just… need a night.” 

Her mouth twists into some semblance of understanding, and her eyelashes flutter a second in thought before she meets his eyes again. “I know, dude. But… we don’t have that.” Dean didn’t expect that; he expected Charlie to be kind and give him a break. Instead, she takes the bottle out of his hand slowly and sets it on the ground so she can push herself up further on the bed, criss-cross applesauce in front of him. “Dean, we have a bunch of angels and demons out there waiting to be told a plan, and convinced into it, and we need a Danny Ocean to bring them together.” Dean lets out a short breath through his nose at the reference and shakes his head. “I know you want Castiel to be here. But Chuck is the reason he’s not. If you can’t fight for anything, at least fight for his memory. Fight because Chuck wanted you to forget it. Him.” 

He knows she’s right, and he knows he’s gonna do it. But his heart aches and he needs to get something out too. “Just once, I don’t wanna fight for a memory. Charlie, I finally thought I was fighting for a future, and it… damn it it felt so fucking good.” 

She nods. Of all people in the world, she knows what it’s like to give up on someone you’ve held onto for so long. “I know.” 

Dean gets his ass up. He kicks the whiskey bottle across the floor because he’s not made of stone, and it shatters against the wall. He breathes out and hopes it stains the wall as he walks past it out to the strangers, friends, and allies in the library.

Michael and Adam notice him immediately from a corner where they’re tucked away, and it feels like a punch in the gut. Dean feels insane boiling red anger forcing its way up his throat as Michael walks toward him, his pathetic little human in tow. “Dean.” Michael starts cautiously. He stops when he sees the fists Dean’s hands have balled themselves into. “Adam has told me what Chuck has done. After… after everything I did for him, he…” He shook his head and offered a bitter smile. “What I mean to say is, I’m on your side. My father must be defeated.”

Dean bares his teeth back in a smile devoid of any good-will. “Right. Let’s see how long it takes you to run back to daddy this time.” He shoves past them, knocking into Michael’s shoulder on purpose, and makes his way to Jo and Ellen. Ellen gives him a hug first, apparently dead-set on ignoring all the angry lines of Dean’s body language that warn away from touching him. His heart clenches at the touch, but he returns the hug eventually. 

“Damn good to see you, boy.” Dean grunts agreement. In a deep unharmed part of Dean’s head, he knows he’s missed Ellen way more than he’ll ever admit. Ellen pulls back to look him in the eyes, motherly concern clear. “I heard about what happened with Cas. Fucking shame. He was a good-”

“Jo,” Dean cuts Ellen off without looking her in the eyes, desperate not to talk about it. Charlie might have dragged him out of his room, but that didn’t mean he was ready for a group therapy session. Jo takes him up on the distraction, giving him a quick tight hug and a kiss on the cheek that Dean leans into. 

“Hi Dean. You’re looking old.” The joke has no bite to it, just fondness, as does Dean’s automatic middle finger he extends to her. “Probably time to get this show on the road, huh?” 

Dean nods, catching Ash’s gaze from behind them. “Alright everybody,” He spins around and claps his hands together in case the raise in his voice wasn’t enough to get their attention. All the trepidation he’d had at public speaking just doesn’t seem to hit him anymore. Hell, it doesn’t matter if he fucks up this speech or if everyone here thinks he’s shit or- “So first we gotta hit the books. We’ve got more manpower here than we’ve ever had and there’s gotta be stuff Sam and I overlooked the first time through the lore. Maybe something we didn’t have the juice for before.” He gestures around at the dozen or so of them lounging around the bunker’s library, showing that they are in fact ‘the juice.’ His eyes settle on Hannah and Gabriel and Samandriel and in the back-

He sees Cas. He looks softer than he’s seemed in the earlier visions, somehow more at peace. If Dean didn’t know better he’d say he looks… relieved. Dean stares then, frozen, unable to help himself, even as the angels and demons and dead humans around him shift around and turn to follow his eyeline, murmuring. 

Then Pamela comes up next to him and nudges Dean on the shoulder, a smile evident in her voice. “Real.” she tells him quietly. 

Dean looks at her quickly, and she raises her eyebrows. Not bullshit. Dean turns back and actually looks this time, seeing Billie, Meg, and Crowley behind Cas. 

“Cas?” 

Cas breaks into a wide smile. If it weren’t for all the godforsaken tables and chairs in the center of the table, Dean would already be wrapping him up in his arms. As it is, he shoulders his way through still angels and demons to get to him, still not quite believing. “You’re… here?” 

Cas nods, holding his gaze. “I’m here.” 

“How-” Dean shakes his head and pulls Cas into a hug. He wants to keep him there forever, but halfway through he becomes acutely away of the dozen-plus eyes watching them, and he pulls away and forces himself to acknowledge Cas’s companions. None of them go in for hugs, which… Dean is glad for. “What happened to always coming when I call, huh?” He means for it to be a joke. It is a joke, but the significance behind the words take precedence.

“You were taking too long.” 

Dean snorts. He’s fucking ridiculous is what he is. Taking too long. Dean’ll kick his ass, he’ll see who takes too long. “Sorry, next time I’ll hurry up with the massive inter-realm prison break.” 

“Thank you.” Cas fakes primness and Dean wants to give him another hug. He doesn’t. Instead he turns around to the room at large and only flushes a little. “Well? Get the fuck to it! I ain’t your mom.” 

The hubbub resumes immediately and Dean turns back to the newcomers. “So, uh, how the fuck did you guys get together?” 

Meg smirks while Crowley goes for bitter. “Nice to see you too, Squirrel.” 

Dean grins and finally pulls Crowley in for a side hug. Nothing big, but then nothing small, if the suppressed smile on Crowley’s face can be trusted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbles. He turns his attention to Billie. “So you done trying to kill me?” 

Billie rolls her eyes and narrows them at Dean. “Considering you’re already dead, I think that would be redundant… but, yes.” She shrugs, looking around at the team that’s gathered. “I’d say we have bigger fish to fry.” 

Meg raises an eyebrow. “You can say that again. I’ve never met a more suicidal person, Dean. Even dead.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. From his peripheral he gets a glimpse of Cas’s glare, and he knows he’s gonna have to explain the whole “dead” thing to a very angry angel later. “So you’re in?” 

Meg smirks. “Wouldn’t miss it.” 

Dean’s a little relieved. Billie and Crowley seem to agree, and just like that, he’s got three more allies. 

After a while, the team has spread out between the several storage rooms, library, and war room. Dean spends most of that time wandering or entrenched deeply in a book, all too aware of Cas sitting on the opposite corner of the table. His stomach doesn’t feel like it has butterflies so much as it has flies buzzing around in a constant anxious loop. 

About three hours in, Dean’s brain refuses to read even another word. He kneads his temple; he’d spent the last two and a half hours kneading paragraphs and sentences into it, maybe it can spit out a few more cells for this ancient text he’s reading. It responds with a resolute flatline, and Dean gives up. He sighs loudly and looks up. Cas is looking directly at him. The guy doesn’t even try to hide it. Dean’s cheeks instantly flare with heat and he gives him a nervous nod. “Cas, you wanna beer?” 

Cas blinks twice and raises up to follow. By the time Dean turns around to hand him a bottle from the fridge, Cas is fidgeting with his sleeve. Dean is so fucking confused; shouldn’t he be the one to be nervous right now? After everything Cas said… Jesus, seemed like he was pretty solid where he stood. Unless… unless of course, he’s had second thoughts after all. 

Cas doesn’t seem to get his brainwaves of utter panic spinning out of him. He takes a sip and lets out a ridiculously dramatic wince. “Ugh.” 

Dean furrows his brows. “You never had a problem with beer on earth.” 

Cas clears his throat, looking… ashamed? “I got used to the taste of molecules. The  _ taste  _ of beer, however, is different. An acquired taste, I guess.” He gives Dean a sad smile. Dean’s really not catching up fast enough, here. Every sentence Cas says sounds like a fucking riddle to him.

“Sorry, you can  _ taste  _ it? Like, for real?” 

“Mhm.” 

Cas is being shifty, that’s for damn sure. 

“What gives? Cas, what aren’t you telling me?” Dean drops his personal crap for a second and picks up some worry on his friend’s behalf. Cas avoids his eye a few seconds before he finally meets it. 

“I lost my grace, Dean.” he says softly, like he’s trying to let Dean down easy or something. Dean’s heart stutters in his chest. “I had to use it, as a way out, back in the Empty. We got cornered by a group of… enforcers… and it was the only way. Luckily we’d made it to the weakest part of the Empty by then, I believe the section you broke into-”

“Wait, there are  _ cops  _ in the Empty? Gross.” Dean scoffs. Man, they’re everywhere. “So what, you’re human now?”

“Close enough, I suppose.” He lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend, I won’t be much help to you now.” 

Dean can’t freaking handle Cas apologizing to him right now. Not after everything he’d given up. Not to mention his stupid lizard brain repeating the words “my friend” over and over again in his head. What was the  _ I love you  _ then? An empty threat? “I- don’t do that.” he clenches his jaw with the realization he was repeating his fucking nightmare. 

“Do what?” 

“Don’t  _ apologize.  _ I mean, dude, you’re here.” He almost grabs a hold of Cas right back, but he loses the guts. “That’s good enough for me, man.”

God, it’s true. It’s so freaking much more than that, but it’s true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and for commenting and helping me out however you can. i read every comment and see every kudos (even if i haven't gotten around to replying to it yet! sorry!)  
> if your love language is gift giving then: https://ko-fi.com/casperthefriendlyghost
> 
> Also, if you haven't picked up on it, all previous chapters have been titled for (and had the lyrics of) relevant classic rock songs. Now it is (as I've lovingly named it just now) Act Deus (A play on act deux anybody? anybody? a stretch of a pun, you say? don't say it) and that means it's time for Modern Pop. The duality of Deancas my dudes (gender neutral)


	13. Do I Wanna Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So have you got the guts?  
> Been wonderin' if your heart's still open  
> And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts
> 
> Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt  
> It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you  
> I don't know if you feel the same as I do  
> But we could be together if you wanted to
> 
> If this feelin' flows both ways?  
>  Was sorta hopin' that you’d stay  
> That the nights were mainly made  
> For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day
> 
> Crawlin' back to you (Crawlin' back to you)  
> Ever thought of callin' when  
> You've had a few?  
> 'Cause I always do  
> Maybe I'm too   
> Busy bein' yours   
> To fall for somebody new  
> Now, I've thought it through  
> Crawlin' back to you

Cas is a lot relieved and a little gutted to be back around Dean. Every time he looks at him, it’s like he can’t believe he’s gotten to see him again. Dean seems similarly shaken and on edge, which only intensifies as the night goes on. It’s so frustrating; now that his grace is gone, Cas can’t even sense Dean’s feelings as much. He has to read his body language, the tapping of his feet and the glances to him. By the time demons, angels, and other celestial beings alike are retiring to the bunker’s rooms for breaks, the irrational nerves in Castiel’s chest are almost unbearable. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean clears his throat, taking a look around the mostly empty library before lowering his voice again. “You… uh, you gotta sleep now, right? Now that you got-” he waves a hand. “No, you know, juice.”

Cas blinks and nods, a nicely timed yawn coming to his lips. “Yeah. I guess so. Why?” 

“I was just thinking…” Dean’s ears are pink and he mutters the next part of the sentence so fast and quiet Cas legitimately no idea what he said. Cas rolls his eyes and gives Dean a look, so he tries again. “You could bunk with me, if all the other rooms are taken.” 

Cas opens his mouth in surprise and then shuts it. He nods, shocked. He’s out in the open with no clue what to expect, no instincts to guide him. “Uh. Yes. That would be good.” 

Dean puts on a little grimacing smile and doesn’t look at him. Cas swears, every next move he makes is confusing, and he can’t even look to Meg or Crowley or Billie to learn context from their reactions. 

Eventually, Dean stands up and stretches. He spends an exorbitant amount of time tidying his area, which Cas takes as a signal to follow him to his room. He waits patiently as Dean hands over a pair of dorky pajama pants and a t-shirt, trying not to let his heart speed up at the brush of their hands. It’s the first time they’ve been within feet of each other since their greeting. The pants have cowboy boots printed all over them, and he’s seen Dean wear them several times. He’s looked adorable in them everytime, and Cas would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled to get to wrap himself up in them. But he shakes it off. He is determined to make their friendship work,  _ normally _ , despite his feelings for Dean. 

He turns away when Dean starts to change in front of him; faces the corner and slips quietly into his own sleep-clothes. When he turns around, Dean is looking determinedly down. Cas clears his throat and slips into the left side of the bed, the side he knows Dean doesn’t sleep on. Dean settles in next to him, and Cas can practically feel every inch of distance between them. After the light goes out, he’s only a little bit disappointed that he can’t really see Dean’s face in the dark. He likes seeing Dean’s face; he likes seeing it without the Empty’s twisted sneers marring it. 

Cas knows Dean can’t sleep because it sounds like he’s holding his breath. He’s also staring straight up at the ceiling; they both are. Cas is pretty sure he’d said these exact positions were “vamp-like” and “creepy” one time, but it’s probably a bad time to bring that up.

The silence stretches out as they ignore that they’re ignoring each other. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” Dean asks abruptly. “I mean, when you could still live after,” 

Cas’s sharp intake gives away his surprise at Dean actually bringing up his confession. “I… don’t know. I didn’t want to… upset our relationship.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause our ‘relationship’ has always been easy breezy.” Cas can hear the sarcastic quotation marks around the word ‘relationship’ and it feels like a punch to the gut. 

Cas frowns deeply. He turns his head to look at Dean, but his gaze goes unanswered, Dean apparently resolute in his obliviousness. “Dean, are you mad at me?” 

Dean leaves a beat. Two. “Am I angry you dropped a bombshell like that and then fucked off and died? For all you knew, forever? Hell yeah I am.” Shit, the guy who’s in love with him didn’t even want to stick around for this shitshow.

“I’m sorry.” Cas says quietly. “I hope you know I didn’t think of it like that.” 

“Did you know?” 

“Know what?” 

Dean huffs again, crosses his arms over his chest. “Come on, Cas, did you know about me?”

“Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cas props himself up on one elbow and stares. “Know what?” 

Dean flicks his eyes over to Cas’s face self-consciously. He’s telling the truth. “That I… you know.” 

“Dean, please speak in full sentences. I did give a pretty epic speech before dying for you; you at least owe me full sentences.” 

Dean snorts in laughter, and Cas’s heart swells up in pride. “Heh. Never gonna let me forget that, are you?” He sighs. “How I feel, Cas.” 

Cas goes fully still. How he feels? “Of course I did, Dean.” The one thing he wants, he knows he can’t have. 

“Oh.” Dean is so aware that his arm is one inch away from Cas’s in bed.  _ In bed.  _ “Guess you really know me, huh.” He didn’t even know about his feelings, back then. He couldn’t admit it to himself till Cas was a doornail. He’s brave this time; he nudges Cas with his shoulder, leaves his arm still touching him. 

Cas smiles sadly. His heart hurts. But he can do this; he’s played this game with Dean for years now. He can handle it too, even now. Even with Dean’s arm pressed up against his in bed, like some twisted joke of the things he’s dreamed of for years.

“Then why say that stuff?” All that stuff about not being able to  _ have  _ him.

“I didn’t tell you so that I could  _ have  _ you, Dean Winchester. I told you so you would know.” Cas says sincerely. He never wanted to make Dean feel indebted to him in any way.

Oh. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and moves his arm back, feeling like a fucking idiot. So he’s a great guy, a guy who  _ loves,  _ but not a guy Cas really wants to  _ be with.  _ Dean can’t blame him, not really. Because he might not be a shitty person but he has definitely been a shitty boyfriend; he can’t blame Cas for not wanting in on that. 

Cas feels the loss like his own missing limb. He moves to reinstate it without thinking, his knuckles brushing up against Dean’s in the dark. Dean flinches but doesn’t move away this time. Cas feels like his arm is on fire at all their points of contact. But he allows himself the small pleasure, because Dean allows it.

Dean, meanwhile, is trying not to bust out crying again. It makes him feel like a freaking child. His fingers move without him thinking. His index finger sits on top of Cas’s and his knuckle brushes along the finger. It makes his chest seize up, but, like, in a good way. He looks at Cas, and this time he doesn’t look back at him. He wants to say something crazy or- or god forbid, he wants to do something crazy- but- that isn’t what Cas wants. “We’re gonna get Jack back.” 

Cas’s mouth crooks into the tiniest smile he’s ever seen. “He’ll be okay.” 

“We’re gonna fix it.” 

“Yes. Yes, we are.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was a deancas fic where dean was hired to be cas's fake boyfriend, cas (novak was the ln i think) was a business man and i think sam lived in washington or canada, they danced under a bridge or subway or something to unchained melody. i read this fic like 7 years ago please help me find it 
> 
> yes i am doing this in the right space sh. love you all you have good taste in fics (lol) i am trusting you will know it


	14. Ex-Factor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could all be so simple   
> But you'd rather make it hard   
> Loving you is like a battle   
> And we both end up with scars
> 
> Tell me who I have to be   
> To get some reciprocity  
> See, no one loves you more than me   
> And no one ever will 
> 
> Is this just a silly game   
> That forces you to act this way?   
> Forces you to scream my name  
> Then pretend that you can't stay 
> 
> Tell me, who I have to be   
> To get some reciprocity  
> See, no one loves you more than me  
> And no one ever will

Dean wakes up with Cas plastered against him. He shifts a bit, trying to tell his sweaty, half asleep limbs from Cas’s, but Cas is too fucking heavy. His arm is slung tightly around Dean’s waist, gripping Dean’s shirt where it’s riding up his stomach, and Cas’s full torso weight is on his arm which tingles every time he even thinks about moving it. “Fuck.” Dean mouths, looking at the angel. Cas is curled up so his head is on Dean’s shoulder, hair poking up Dean’s nose. “Cas,” Dean whispers. He doesn’t want Cas to get off him, but it feels wrong to just let his best friend cuddle him unknowingly and it feels extra wrong when he realizes more than just his arm’s waking up with all the bodily contact. “Cas, buddy,” 

Cas makes a fussy, angry noise and burrows deeper into Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s heart melts a little bit. He’s pretty sure he’s had this dream before. Except it ended with some hot and steamy sex that is most definitely not gonna happen today. Dean tries again, this time putting a hand on Cas’s back which… is definitely shirtless. He must’ve gotten hot in the middle of the night. Dean swallows thickly and rubs Cas’s back softly. “Dude. Wake up.” 

“Mm, haven’t slept in years, lemme alone,” Cas mutters crossly. 

Dean grins. “You haven’t  _ needed  _ to sleep in years, dumbass.” 

“So?” Cas’s mouth stays open this time; Dean can feel the wet little circle of breath against his collarbone. It makes his own breathing hitch in his throat. Jesus Christ, he’s definitely gonna have a problem here. 

“Um,” he stops himself, desperately begging his dick to get under control. After not sobbing last night post-rejection, he thought maybe his body had just decided to turn the Cas-switch off. Wishful fucking thinking. Cas is one elbow shift away from getting a feel of some very non-platonic bodily functions. 

Dean panics. He’s not afraid to admit it. He full-body panics and, of fight or flight, flight is his only feasible option. So he does what any mildly-sane maladjusted uncomfortably bisexual disaster would do and he rolls onto the floor. Yes, fully off his own bed onto the floor, going a full 270 degrees, yanking his dead-weight arm out from under his best friend. 

Cas wakes up, confused and hard, to the sound of a grown man’s body thudding onto concrete. “Dean?” It's then that his body takes inventory and puts two and two together to discover that he’d been sleeping on Dean with a full boner (not that Dean had noticed, his thigh was dead asleep, but how was Cas to know?). The embarrassment floods to his face as Dean scrambles up, wide-eyed.

“Morning, sun-” The sound gets strangled in Dean’s throat as he realizes the casual flirty greeting is completely the wrong direction to go in this situation. “Cas! How ya- I’m gonna-” He turns away quickly, hoping his waist hadn’t been right in front of Cas’s face. “I’m gonna shower, you wan-” Dean shuts his trap. His initial instinct to be overly considerate in cover-up had almost resulted in him inviting Cas into the shower. “Okay, bye.” 

Cas is left with a distinct panic, only intensified by the fact that this morning, Dean is suspiciously missing from all places he could run into him: the bathroom, the kitchen, the library. In fact, after a few hours, his newly human-adjacent nervous system has kicked up to such an obnoxious level of what he knows to be anxiety that he has to  _ ask.  _

“Charlie?” Cas taps her on the shoulder nervously, apologetic at having to interrupt her conversation with Meg. She grins widely at him anyway.

“Sup, Cas? Still so weird that you’re here. Like, here-here.” She punches him in the shoulder as if to prove it, and Cas smiles, a small note of confusion and physical pain in it. 

“Is there any other way to be?” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Ask Kevin. He has a bitch of a time just popping in for convos.” 

Cas tilts his head in recognition. “Touche. Um, I was wondering if you’ve seen Dean around? I know he kind of…” 

“Clings to me like a lost puppy?” Charlie smirks. It’s true; all last evening (the  _ first  _ time Dean was avoiding him; how is Cas so in love with this man?) Dean had stuck to Charlie’s side wherever she went, even after she made several very loud and annoyed comments about it.

“Yeah.” 

“I think he’s in the garage with Ash. Something about the Impala, y’know.” She hitches a thumb in that direction. A flare of jealousy goes through Cas, made all the worse by-

“Mhm, guess you got competition, Clarence?” Meg nudges Cas suggestively, whispers it in his ear, and Cas goes pink in the face. He knows the appeal of Ash; he’s not a robot. Dean is no doubt attracted to the man’s carefree attitude, impressive knowledge of technology, and similar tastes in beer and music. Not to mention the arms… and hair. 

“I think I’ll just go and-” he breaks away awkwardly and heads toward the garage. He and Dean can’t be on a constant loop of extremely intimate one-on-one conversations hidden within giant gaps of awkward avoidance. It’s unbearable. For the thousandth time since he returned to heaven, he wonders if he did the right thing telling Dean about his feelings for him. 

Cas creaks open the door to the garage slowly, just peeking his head through. He doesn’t want to disturb Dean or Ash, after all. They could be having a very private conversation… they could be talking about Cas’s unfortunate boner this morning. They could be… engaged in other activities. Cas takes a deep breath. He’s fine, he’s doing great. Dean is perfectly free to have any conversation or do any activity with anyone he chooses, and that is really none of Cas’s business. He can practically feel Crowley laughing at him right now.

Through the cracked door, Cas can see the edge of Baby, hood open and propped up. She’s polished clean, and Dean sits on the corner of her hood with a polish rag in hand. Sweat and polish mingle on his forehead, and he lifts his black t-shirt up to wipe it off as he laughs at Ash’s joke. Ash, meanwhile, is poking at something under the hood and looking at Dean with a crooked grin. Cas can’t hear what they’re saying, but it feels like a spike through the heart to look at their easy chemistry, their simple intimacy over crappy beer. It’s bitterness he feels when he remembers that not so long ago, he had that with Dean. He turns back, losing his nerve to storm in and demand a conversation, not even minding the thud the door makes as it settles back into its frame.

A bad idea. A very bad idea, he’s sure. He pushes past Crowley, who grumbles “Who shat in your cheerios, sunshine?” which makes it  _ worse _ , because  _ Dean calls him sunshine.  _ Called him sunshine. Before he confessed his undying love for him and apparently pushed him into the arms of a hot dead genius.

Meg follows him into the kitchen, much to his annoyance. She pokes him in the side. “You just gonna mope around all day?” 

Cas levels a bitch-face at her. “Do you have any other ideas?” 

She quirks her lips. “Hm, well, considering we’re in the same pathetic positions as we were 8 years ago, I think I do.” she drapes herself over his shoulder, and Cas stiffens. The comparison, while not entirely inaccurate, does not make him happier. 

“I thought you were having fun flirting with Charlie.”

Meg tilts her head back and forth. She was. “I dunno, I think she’s sweet on that Jo chick.” She gives Cas a kiss on the cheek. “It’s kinda my type, in case you hadn’t noticed.” 

“Maybe you should seek therapy about that.” Cas tries to send another glare but it ends up fond; she sends him a tight smile straight back. “It’s not like before, Meg.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Meg rolls her eyes. “You angels and your  _ love.”  _ Cas furrows his brow, and Meg puts a finger on his lips before he can correct her about the emotional capacity of most angels. “I said what I said, shut up. What do you say we get spectacularly drunk with Crowley and Bill and forget all about the humans, huh?” 

He thinks a moment before nodding. “We can hide out in Storage Room C, I believe they keep some very dangerous and obscure artifacts in there.” 

She grins. “Perfect for drunk-researching.” 

\------------------

…. Which is how, several hours later, Dean storms into Storage Room C in a mild rage after the third giant crash comes from the room. “What the hell-” He stops dead as he comes face-to-face with a slack-jawed Billie attempting to extract herself from the row of shelves she’d apparently just fell into and knocked over. Crowley, Cas, and Meg all lounge against the walls laughing, not making the slightest move to help her. Dean stomps over and holds a hand out, but Billie just slaps him away with grumble. Crowley giggles at the exchange and Dean glares at him. “Shut up. What the fuck are you guys doing in here?” 

Cas frowns at him. “What does it look like? We’re  _ researching. Furthering the cause _ . Attempting to overthrow the Heavenly Father.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together in apparent confusion, and his eyes slide unwillingly to where Meg is resting her head on Cas’s shins. She gives him a little wave and a wink. “Oh, yeah, looks like you’re making a real dent here. Not knocking all kinds of important shit over, fuck knows setting off what kind of magical booby-traps.” He sends a look at Billie, who flips him off. 

Cas snorts, setting the bottle of -anger flares up in Dean’s chest, that’s  _ his  _ whiskey- alcohol in his hand down beside him. “One time you brought a box marked ‘highly dangerous, do not touch’ out after a six pack of beer and picked the items up using kitchen tongs like you were playing Operation before touching them really quickly like a hot stove to see if anything would happen.” 

Dean sets his jaw. In other circumstances, maybe if it were just him and Cas, the same sentence could sound like good-natured ribbing. Now, though, Cas’s eyes have a bitter glint and Meg is sneering at him. It makes Dean’s skin crawl like he’s the subject of some cruel joke, and it makes him fucking angry. “Yeah, well, I’m not a dumbass.” 

Now it’s Crowley’s turn to chuckle. Dean whips around and arches a brow at him, but he seems seriously unaffected. “What? You could at least have said something true, if you’re going to be an asshole.” 

“Me? Me?” 

Billie blows a raspberry. “Yes, you.” 

Dean starts turning red and his hands ball into fists at his sides. “Cas, could I see you outside?”

Cas dislodges from Meg and follows after him, smiling briefly at Crowley’s eyeroll of solidarity. He follows Dean closely down the hall a ways and stops after Dean does, late, so that they’re too close once again. Except Cas is a little drunk and he can’t be bothered to fix it because Dean looks really pretty with the scarce hall lighting throwing shadows across his face. Dean looks a little taken aback at the distance at first but he apparently doesn’t mind too much because he doesn’t step away.

Now that they’re on their own, all the tension has melted out of their interactions. “Look, Cas, what the hell with you and the A-Team in there?” 

Cas smiles dopily. “You think we’re the A-Team?” 

Dean blinks but he can’t seem to pass up Cas’s happiness. “An angel, a demon, a king of hell, and Death? Yeah, sure, you’re the A-Team.” Cas looks even more pleased and Dean flushes, looking down at his feet before he remembers the purpose of this conversation. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Ellen found a lead, it’s this…” Dean trails off, sighing at the glazed look in Cas’s eye. “I’ll tell you in the morning; you’re too drunk for this.” 

“Nonsense,” Cas resists. One side of Dean’s face lifts in a half-smile and Cas puts a hand on this cheek impulsively, proving his point. Dean leans into it. 

“Cas,” Dean sighs, starting off a sentence that he doesn’t know how to finish. He wants to beg Cas not to do this, but every touch-starved instinct in his body is telling him the opposite. So, he does nothing. Still, though, that seems like another wrong option, because Cas takes his hand away anyway. Dean’s smile turns into a frown immediately. A long moment passes where they stay staring at each other without much excuse. Then Cas clears his throat. 

“I’m going to go back to… the A-Team. My friends.” he adds with a degree of bitterness, motioning back to the room they’d come from. Dean nods haltingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Billie doesn’t upset the universal stasis with some unknown artifact.” They both let that moment sit in irony for a second before continuing. “I’ll- I’ll be in to sleep later, if- if that’s okay.” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah. ‘Course.” Dean gives an awkward little salute and walks off down the hall, trying not to think about a separate universe where they’re planning another kind of rendezvous in bed. 

Cas returns to Storage Room C thinking the same thing. That’s probably what prompts him to shut the door, sink slowly to the concrete, and say, “Crowley, what is it like to have sex with Dean Winchester?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love everybody reading this story. :) i'm starting to get a handle on how long this'll be, i think it'll end up 22-25 chapters. wild


	15. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a thought, dear, however scary  
> About that night, the bugs and the dirt  
> Why were you digging? What did you bury  
> Before those hands pulled me from the earth?
> 
> I will not ask you where you came from  
> I will not ask and neither should you  
> Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips  
> We should just kiss like real people do

When Cas wakes up in Dean’s bed the next morning, he is alone. Cas is already tired of the feeling. It does, however, urge him out of bed, despite the headache pounding against his skull and the cottony feel of his mouth. He changes out of Dean’s dumb pajamas and into one of Dean’s t-shirts, jeans, and his old favorite trenchcoat. Since losing his grace, he’d become abundantly aware of how uncomfortable suits are, but he couldn’t quite drop the reassurance of the coat, no matter how many “flasher” jokes he got from his friends.

He winds his way through the hubbub of angels, demons, and hunters in the common areas of the bunker, heading toward the first faces he thinks would know where Dean is. Jo and Charlie sit criss-cross on a table, sharpening angel blades. 

“Hey Cas, what’s up?” 

“Yeah, wanna join?” Jo spins a dulled blade on her finger tip, flipping it and offering it to the angel. Cas waves it away, shaking his head. 

“No thanks. I was actually looking for Dean.” Jo and Charlie both stop moving and look at each other.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jo scowls at Charlie, who scowls right back before looking to Cas to explain. 

“I told him to wake you up before.” 

Cas tries not to let his heart sink too low, and instead plasters on a forced smile. “I’m a pretty heavy sleeper, I think; maybe he tried. Besides, I was kind of… inebriated, last night.” 

Jo grins at him. “Yeah, we heard you were, light-weight.” She takes a look at the bags under his eyes and tosses him a bottle of ibuprofen. “And here I remember when you could take 8 shots without batting an eye.” 

“The better days.” Cas agrees gravely. He knocks back a couple pills and gets back on track. “So, Dean?” 

“Right, um… Sam died.” Charlie says it like it might be a blow to him. “Dean’s, uh, going to meet him.” 

Cas nods, absorbing the information. “Oh, okay. Is he…” The question on hand is Is He Okay? But Cas realizes he doesn’t know what that’s asking. He’s Dead. They’re All Dead. “He said Ellen found a lead on the Jack situation?” 

Jo nods and sets down the angel blade in her hand so she can pick up a book next to her. She flips it to a bookmarked page and holds it out to Cas. “Yeah, Mom found this dusty fucking book with an ejection spell, strong enough to get anything out of an unwilling host.” Cas puruses the volume; it’s written in samarian with illustrations of a roughly human form expelling a force. “Its powerhouse ingredient is a fucking pomegranate. And best place to find a good one? Best garden in heaven. What the hell, right?”

Charlie nods. “It’s got great Hades and Persephone vibes and everything, but, really? That’s what is gonna beat God?” 

Cas raises his eyebrows, pondering. “Well, actually, it’s a pretty apt subject for the power-giving section of a spell. Born of the Earth, a natural creation from Chuck’s basal natural creation, to be fuel for humans and animals, sentient and most holy of Chuck’s intentional design. Not to mention the link between Persephone and Hades which symbolizes the intentional meshing of life and death with one chosen and forbidden love. Good call, Charlie.”

Charlie’s mouth falls open into a little ‘oh’ and Jo busts out laughing. “Damn, you said Chuck was a bad writer, but I didn’t know he was so cheesy.” Cas grins at the response.

“How the fuck do you and Dean even go, seriously.” Charlie grumbles. Jo shoves her arm like she’s trying to protect Cas from some big secret, but Charlie bugs her eyes back. “No seriously, it’s like Spock and Kirk if Spock just every once in a while dropped some bomb ass sonnet on his face. No offense,” she adds, glancing at Cas. “Actually no, there really is no offense, Spock is dope.” She looks at Jo as if to get her agreement, but Jo shrugs apologetically. 

“I was always more of a Star Wars buff.” 

Cas leaves in the ensuing fight, grin firmly planted on his face. If nothing else comes from this adventure, if he never gets to kiss Dean Winchester or hug Jack again or save the world from his egomaniacal God-Father, at least he’s had a few more laughs with friends. 

Okay, no. He’s definitely going to need at least most of the things on his list to also come true, but he can also be happy about his new group of friends. 

\---------------------------------

Dean had picked out his outfit very carefully that morning, which was saying a lot considering he’d been tossing his shit around at the ass-crack of dawn trying to see with his phone flashlight so he didn’t wake Cas up. Which Charlie is absolutely gonna chew him out for later, but Dean never claimed to be brave. He’s chicken-shit and he didn’t want to wake Cas up to tell him where he’s going and have Cas look at him all concerned and shit and ask how he feels. Because honestly, Dean doesn’t know how to feel. His little brother’s dead and he’s driving to meet him undoubtedly under the microscope of the Douchebag-And-Chief in his adoptive-son’s body. 

His life (and death) is so fucked up.

So Dean drives, and he pulls at his red flannel, and he hopes this outfit isn’t stupid. He sounds like a girl on a first date, but he hopes this outfit isn’t stupid. Sure, he wore it to make Chuck happy with his damn stupid poetic symmetry, but if the first thing Sammy does when he sees him is laugh he’s gonna deck him, newly-dead or not. 

Is Sam gonna look old? Is he gonna have weird jowels and creepy see-through hands and stupid long gray hair that looks like a bad wig? Dean shudders and secretly wishes he went bald, if that’s his option.

Okay, so Dean is officially overthinking this. 

He pushes Baby’s gas pedal down a little further and rounds the corner and there’s a bridge there, and Dean says, “Fuck it,” and he puts her into park. He’s still not really sure how Heaven-roads work, he’d been hoping it was more of a picture-your-destination-and-it-will-appear thing, but apparently it isn’t. Either that or he has a really bad memory of this bridge, because it’s not the same bridge as the one in Jericho so long ago. Well, too bad. It’s good enough. Dean’ll excuse it with budget cuts or a fucking global disaster or something; Chuck won’t pay that much attention. 

He gets out and stands looking over the edge, and he thinks about things he’s definitely not supposed to in Chuck’s version of his life. He thinks about Mary, wherever she is, holed up somewhere far from his dad no doubt. He thinks about Bobby, having to be left out of this whole suicidal plan that he’d love because Chuck chose him for the job of Pearly Gates Keeper. He thinks about Cas, and how he constantly steems to be fucking things up with his best friend. He thinks about what he wants to do instead. 

And then he smiles. 

“Heya, Sammy.” He turns around and wraps an arm around his brother, and that dumb motherfucker is wearing his outfit from that night too. “Nice threads, dork.” he mutters in his ear, even though he has no right because he started it. 

“Yeah, could say the same thing to you.” 

Dean grins. It’s true. “How you been?” He lets go of Sam and looks him over. He looks the same as Dean remembers, which… isn’t really what he was expecting. But hey. It’s better than Old Man Sam. 

Sam shrugs off the Worried Mom arms holding him in place and puts on a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, y’know. Dead. Wanna take a drive?” 

“You know it.” Dean follows Sam’s lead and takes his place in the driver’s seat once more. He looks over at Sam as he puts Baby in reverse to back the hell off this bridge. “You better have taken care of the real one down there.” he warns, pointing a finger. “No iPod chargers, no… bluetooth shit.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. He knows they can’t talk about anything Big until they get back to the bunker, but it’s still annoying. Which is why he practically jumps out of the car while it’s still rolling after they get in the garage. Seeing Cas again, Jo, Ellen, Charlie, Ash, Pamela (he’d missed being cheekily groped by friends), Gabe, Adam even Crowley and Meg and Michael, it’s amazing. Hell, they’re in fucking heaven that’s not really heaven and they throw a party. 

It isn’t until a few hours into the festivities that Sam manages to pull Cas aside. “Hey, dude, uh… don’t take this the wrong way, but… what’s going on with you and Dean?” 

Cas avoids his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Sam gives him a look. “You’ve been avoiding each other like the plague ever since we got back,” Cas presses his lips into a tight line. It makes Sam tense up and get nervous. “I would’ve thought you’d be attached at the fucking hip after you died on him and everything.” 

Cas frowns at Sam, confusion written all over his face now. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?” Now Sam is really lost. Dean’s  _ still  _ keeping secrets from him?

“What I- how I died.” 

“He… he said you made a deal with the Empty…”

Cas closes his eyes and curses the day he was born. Or, created. Now he has to go through this with Sam, too? “Yes, to be taken whenever I experience true happiness. Sam, I told your brother I’m in love with him.” 

“What.” It’s not so much a question as it is a single word uttered in complete monotone, and Cas squints at him like he’s exhausted.

“Yes.”

“DEAN!”

Cas clamps a hand around Sam’s mouth before he can get another syllable out. “Sam, no, please. We’re working through it.” 

Sam’s eyes widen and he peels Cas’s fingers away. “Obviously fucking not.” 

“Just… let us. Please. We will get back to normal, I promise.”

“Back to- Cas, you’re killing me.” 

Dean appears around the corner on high alert, and stops dead when he sees the two of them. “What the hell, Sammy? You yell like you’re dyin’ back here.” 

Cas gives Sam a silent death glare and Sam gives one straight back, but finally sighs. He pats Dean on the way out with contained rage, leaving Dean and Cas alone together. “It’s Sam.” 

Cas stares after him and Dean relaxes until he sees the look on his face. He steps closer and puts a hand on Cas’s arm. “Hey, you okay, bud?” 

Cas looks at him tiredly, almost too cynical to savor the touch. “Of course. Why do you ask?” 

Dean tilts his head, not buying it. “Just seems like you’re not having a great time with, y’know, the party.” He squeezes Cas’s arm and finally let’s his hand drop. “Wanna go watch nature documentary reruns on the discovery channel?” 

The corners of Cas’s mouth pop up and Dean feels like he’s won the lottery. He cusses himself out for avoiding being near Cas for the whole day; he loves hanging out with this guy. It’s not fucking worth it to not see him, just to avoid a little emotional pain. Jesus, he’s a wuss. “And leave the party?”

Dean shrugs, glancing back the way he came. “I’ve paid my dues. Besides, this plan works and we got all the time in the world. It doesn’t, and no amount’ll ever be enough.” He leaves off the part he’s thinking, that if he’s only got a few quiet hours left, he’d rather spend them doing dumb shit with Cas.

Cas feels like he’s been handed a treasured gift. “Sure.”

They retreat to Dean’s room, because the Dean Cave (much to Dean’s chagrin, actually) is being occupied by demons for a  _ Wild Hogs  _ viewing. Dean jumps up on the bed first and props his socked feet up. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a bag of sour gummy worms, because he always has a snack nearby, and offers one to Cas. Cas takes one and Dean grins. It makes Cas’s chest light up. “How does it feel to have Sam back?” He asks, pushing the covers back so he can tuck his legs underneath them. 

Dean shrugs and looks away. “I dunno, it’s nice I guess.” He rummages around for the remote and clicks through channels, mostly avoiding Cas’s questioning look. “None of it really feels… real, y’know? I mean, still, all of it is just one big fucking Chuck-bizarro world.” He sighs, frustrated, and turns to look at Cas. Which turns out to be a huge mistake because they’re sitting very close together on the bed, on his bed, and it fucks with his mind. His eyes flicker to the trace of sugar still coating Cas’s chapped bottom lip and he wants to lick it off. 

“I know what you mean.” Cas says quietly. He’s just as enamored with the tilt of Dean’s body in toward him, the way he’s propped up at just the perfect angle that if Cas wanted to, he could...

Dean sniffs. “Whatever happened to ‘we’re real’ and all that?” 

Cas’s tongue flickers out to lick the sugar on his lip away, a motion Dean can’t help but track, and he shrugs. “Sometimes we don’t feel that real anymore.” he admits, and Dean’s heart breaks. 

“We’re real.” Dean tells him. He can feel his cheeks heat up just with the words, and he can’t even figure out why, but it’s the right thing to say, because Cas is leaning closer, and it’s the last thing Dean thinks before he hears Cas say,

“Prove it.” 

And then he kisses him.


	16. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our coming-of-age has come and gone  
> Suddenly this summer, it's clear  
> I never had the courage of my convictions  
> As long as danger is near  
> And it's just around the corner, darlin'  
> 'Cause it lives in me  
> No, I could never give you peace
> 
> But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm  
> If your cascade, ocean wave blues come  
> All these people think love's for show  
> But I would die for you in secret  
> The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me  
> Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?
> 
> Your integrity makes me seem small  
> You paint dreamscapes on the wall  
> I talk shit with my friends, it's like I'm wasting your honor  
> And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences  
> Sit with you in the trenches  
> Give you my wild, give you a child  
> Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other  
> Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother  
> Is it enough?  
> But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west  
> I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best  
> But the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me

Cas pulls away first. Not because he wants to stop kissing Dean, but because he’s concerned Dean might not  _ want  _ to kiss him at all. He pulls away and looks at Dean and Dean turns scarlet right in front of him. “Are you- okay?” Dean has the audacity to ask him. 

Cas is absolutely not okay. He just kissed Dean Winchester. He actually kissed Dean Winchester. “Um,” he says, very eloquently. Charlie and Jo were right, he is capable of poetry. 

“We can just watch a documentary,” Dean offers. His eyes don’t leave Cas’s face, flitting back down to his lips again, but he points at the TV droning in the background. 

“Okay.” Cas nods. But he leans back in because he can’t help himself. This time Dean is more prepared; he puts a hand on the side of Cas’s neck and pulls him in and kisses him like Cas has always dreamed. Like Dean has kissed all the random and not-random women outside motels and bars, gentle and focused. Cas puts his hand on Dean’s waist in return, and Dean can’t find a way to lean into the touch but he tries, tries to psychically transmit hard enough that Cas will dig deeper, hold harder, not let go. 

Dean breaks the kiss off because it hits him that he is kissing his best friend, the Angel of the Lord Castiel, and he thinks he might be insane. He leaves his hand on Cas’s neck, though, as proof, and only takes it away after a long moment when Cas slides his own hand off Dean’s side. “Real enough for you?” he asks, trying for a cocky joke, but it comes out shaky and unsure. His mind is screaming Too Real Too Real Too Real. 

Cas’s sanity has truly left him as well, because he gives an actual smirk and says, “I could think of realer things,” which sends Dean into a  _ coughing fit  _ when he chokes on his own breath. Cas pats his back soothingly, which Dean desperately would like Death for, and waits for him to regain his composure. “Are  _ you  _ okay?” 

Dean nods, face red from lack of oxygen. “Peachy.” He gasps out. Cas laughs and just like that, the spell is broken and he’s chuckling at himself and they’re just looking at each other with matching dumb smiles. 

“Nature documentary?” 

“Nature. Documentary.” Dean agrees. He looks at his options and reads them off to Cas. “We’ve got meerkats, animals of Antarctica, and seahorses.”

“Seahorses.” Cas says immediately. Dean nods and starts the documentary, glancing at Cas again, who is of course looking right back.

“We have to go to the Garden of Eden,” Dean says instead of something he had not at all been thinking about, like, ‘Let’s make out more.” 

Cas adapts quickly to the change of pace, nodding. “Yes.” 

“So… you’re cool with coming with me?” Dean feels like a teenage girl asking her boyfriend if they’re going steady, picking at the lint on his pants. 

“Of course.” 

Both their hearts swell up a little at that, and Dean presses play. 

\-------------------------------------------------

“You gonna be able to handle that he-witching, Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve got it.” 

“Oh yeah, sure you do.” Dean gives him a grin and moves on to hug Charlie, who hands him a clunky walkie-talkie. 

“So we can direct you. And, y’know. Just in case.” 

Dean nods and stuffs the thing into his bag. Ash hands him a cassette rather than hugging him. “Jams for the road.” he says seriously. “If you’re gonna kill god, you gotta rock n roll.” 

Dean laughs and takes the tape, looking at it with eyebrows raised. “Damn, Dr. Bad-Ass, a mixtape? Are we about to kiss?” 

Ash winks. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Winchester.”

Dean ignores the blood rushing to the tips of his ears and pretends he’s totally unaffected. He can feel Cas’s eyes on him, and he hopes, immaturely, that Cas picked up on the fact that mixtapes are romantic. It’s childish and retroactive, but he wants Cas to know anyway. He tucks the mixtape in his pocket and looks around at the group of friends and allies that has gathered to send him off. “Well, we’ll see you guys on the other side, yeah?” Crowley, Sam, Charlie, Jo, they all nod like they still can’t believe they’re doing this whole fight (again). Only Michael and Adam, tucked together, -which Dean feels a strange mix of embarrassment and comfort seeing- look completely certain. “Go team.” He claps his hands together awkwardly and gives Cas the go-ahead. They get the hell outta dodge.

\------------------------------------

“Ash says to turn left up here, and then continue straight for a while.” Cas tells him, and Dean nods, listening more to the music than the directions. Which is why in about twenty seconds he stalls at the crossroads, knowing he’s supposed to turn but forgetting which direction. He knows Cas is rolling his eyes.

“Left.”   
  


“Yeah, yeah, I knew that. Left.” He 

“Sure you did.” 

“Hey,” Dean glares over at him, the look containing no heat, and his heart surges in his chest at Cas’s returning mirth. 

They continue in silence for who-knows-how-long, Ash’s playlist of even hairier bands the only sound in their companionable silence. As “The Ballad of Jayne” starts rumbling through the speakers, Dean interrupts it with a snort. Cas looks at him.

“What is it?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, just something Ash’n I were talking about.” No way is he relaying  _ that  _ conversation. With those lyrics? He was enlightened, not shameless.

Jealousy spikes in Cas’s throat even though he hates it. The car lapses back into a silence that Cas is now anxious to fill, tapping his foot with the discomfort of it. “How can you stand being in the car all this time?”

Dean offers him a shrewd look. “Meh, you’re just still used to flying everywhere.”

“Yes, well, you would be too if you weren’t terrified of airplanes.” Cas levels a dead stare at him, and Dean looks offended. 

“That is a reasonable fucking fear thank you!”

“You were much more likely to have died behind this steering wheel.”

Dean glares at him and lays his head fully down on the Impala’s wheel. If Pamela can ride her bike blind up here, he’s pretty sure he can keep on with his reckless driving tactics without worrying. “No, hey, Baby would never do that to me, would ya, Baby?”

Cas pushes out a breath through his nose and rolls his eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“Jeez, Cas, tell me how you really feel.”

“I like flying.”

“Yeah, that’s just ‘cause you didn’t have to fly sitting between a smelly teenager and a crying baby when you flew,” Dean mutters darkly.

Cas frowns. “Haven’t you only been on a plane once, and you were sitting next to Sam?”

Dean blinks. He really tells Cas too much about his life, huh. “Yeah, Sam’s the smelly teenager and the baby was across the aisle. But those screams, man? Piercing.” The ludicrously serious expression on Dean’s face brings a smile to Cas’s lips. He can’t help it. He decides to push at the button.

“I thought you liked children.”

“Nobody likes kids when they’re yelling at you! It’s like- it’s like you when you started bird screeching at me after you pulled me out.” A lopsided grin lights up the side of Dean’s face. Cas scoffs. 

“I did not  _ bird screech  _ at you; it was an  _ angelic-” _

“Bird mating call? Yeah, I know, learned about ‘em from a documentary on a hospital tv once.” Cas punches him in the arm. Dean laughs and mockingly rubs the spot. “Easy there, Michael Cera, you’re gonna punch right through to bone,”

“Hey Dean, do you want a donut?”

“You’ve got a-”

Cas punches him with all his might then, straight in the meat of his shoulder. Dean yells, not really hurt, but it might leave a bruise. Cas smiles winningly. “Hurts, donut?”

Dean is laughing before he can take another breath, laughing so hard he’s glad heaven’s roads don’t need his attention because he can’t see through the tears in his eyes. “Who fucking taught you that?”

“Bobby.” Cas smiles smugly. 

“Bobby? You’ve been holding onto that for a long goddamn time!” Dean’s laughter finally starts to die out, and he wipes a hand under his eyes.

“I was waiting for the right moment.” Cas says, very reasonably, and Dean rolls his eyes with his whole head. 

“Yeah, that’s a fucking pattern with you, ain’t it,” he says, almost fondly, almost exasperated, and Cas doesn’t know what to do with that. They alternate between comfortable silence, idle conversation, and occasional obnoxious sing-a-longs (Dean tries to convince Cas to join in but he threatens to jump out of the moving car -- 5 minutes later he’s singing quietly too) until Dean can barely keep his eyes open.

“Dean. Pull over. Dean.”

Cas nudges Dean and he snorts back awake, trying for all the world to pretend he wasn’t sleeping at the wheel. Liar. He pulls over without a fight though, and slumps against the window without a second thought. Cas squints at him. “Are you just going to… sleep there?”

Dean cracks open one eye. “Don’t see any cozy b&b’s around, d’you?” Cas hesitates further and Dean sighs. “Look, I’ve slept in worse places. You wanna keep going, see if we can find a bed?”

_ Bed. Singular.  _ Cas chalks it up to a sleep-deprived slip of the tongue. “No, I’ve slept- it’s okay,” Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve slept in worse too.” Cas continues. And to be honest, he is pretty tired. He could probably make this comfortable if he just-

“When?”

Dean’s sat up a little bit and he’s looking at Cas with an adorably tired scrunched up face. “When I was ho- human.” he says haltingly. Dean catches it and regret flashes over his face. Cas pushes his leg with his foot to distract him, not wanting to dwell on it. “When did you?”

Dean looks at him for a moment, considering whether or not to address it. “When I was a kid. Not a lot, just… sometimes my dad would forget to leave enough money, or get home a couple days late,” he shrugs. “Sleeping on the street sucks.”

“Yeah,” Cas agrees softly. His shoe is still resting against Dean’s leg, and he holds it completely still so he can pretend he didn’t notice. It makes him feel grounded. “No child should have to go through that.” He fell silent then, looking into the distance.

“Thinkin’ about Jack again?”

Cas nods, and Dean knocks against Cas’s shin. “I hope he’s sleeping well. If he’s-” He breaks off, unable to entertain the thought. Unable to think about what Jack’s existence might look like under Chuck’s control. If he has one. “I don’t want him to hurt, not ever.

“Me either.” Cas looks up then, and the mild surprise in his expression fills Dean with a level of self-loathing even he didn’t know was possible. He swallows, hard, feels like he needs to answer for it. “I’ve been shitty to him, Cas. I’ve been so shitty. I’ve been my  _ Dad _ , and- fuck, I’m gonna fix it. I promise. I’ll be better.” Cas nods, haltingly this time, like he doesn’t know how to agree or disagree with it.

“We have to save him, Dean.”

“We will.”

“What if- what if after all of it- after Chuck possessing him- Dean, what if he’s not Jack anymore?”

Dean shrugs. “He’ll be  _ enough  _ him, just like you after Lucifer, just like me after Michael. And hey, if anybody knows how to deal with fucked up shit in somebody’s melon, we do.”

Cas just nods again, a little smile pulling at his lips. He’s still uneasy, but he wants to move on from it. He wants Dean to be right. Dean  _ is  _ right. Dean is here, and Dean is with him. When have they ever failed? He can’t wallow in the what-if’s, or he’ll go insane. He gropes around in his mind for a distraction. “One time I used a blow up doll that I found in the trash as a pillow.” he says, smiling. Dean grins at him, looking just as grateful to be pulled out of his thoughts.

“That’s fucking gross. One time it was so cold Sam and I just put on all our clothes at once to go to bed, and the next morning we got found out by the old guy whose shed we were sleeping in and we had to run down the street like Stay Puft Marshmallow Men.” he chuckles, and Cas chuckles right back. The image of a young Sam and Dean waddling down a suburban street almost outweighs the circumstances of the scene, and they both bask in the lightheartedness of sucky memories for a second. “Cas, you’re small and all, but there’s no way we’re both fitting on this seat without your foot up my ass, and… I ain’t prepared for that kinda shit right now,” Cas blinks at him blankly and Dean bites his lip. Cas eyes the movement, and his mind wanders back to last night, and the fact that he’s kissed those lips. They stare at each other for a long moment, then Dean clears his throat and nods to the backseat. “Unless you wanna drive.” 

Cas clambers over the seat to the back and Dean doesn’t even complain about his shoes on the leather. “Would you let me?”

Dean snorts. “In your dreams, flyboy.”

Cas settles back against the seat, balling up his trenchcoat to be a pillow. “I have better things to dream about.” he says simply, casually, truthfully.

Dean lays down in his own seat and tries not to think about all the things Cas could be dreaming about. 


	17. Honey Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeybee  
> Could you imagine where our lives would leave  
> That silly ring, it wasn't meant to be  
> Luckily you saw in me  
> Something I couldn't see  
> Honeybee  
> I can't imagine how my life would be  
> If all your gravity did not hit me  
> Oh don't you see  
> Darling, my honeybee
> 
> But here we are  
> After all the messes and confessions  
> To the scars  
> That we never really owned as ours
> 
> And if our world comes tumbling down  
> I never could forgive myself for leaving out  
> You're the one  
> You are the only one
> 
> Such a fool  
> I took your love and I bent all the rules  
> You took the blow and didn't let it show  
> Stuck around to let me know  
> Built a family of our own  
> Look around  
> We made a garden of the love we found  
> So many reasons I would fight to stay  
> You're the courage when I fade  
> Take a look at what we've made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a panic attack/anxiety attack

Dawn has not quite hit when Dean is suddenly blinded by a light. “Son of a- what the fuck?” They’re awake before they can notice, blind fear running in their veins. Dean scrambles for his keys, stomps Baby into drive, and they’re 0 to 80 in seconds. 

The spotlight hits him straight in the corneas again and he swerves and almost runs into a fence lining the road. Cas jumps back into the front seat, tugs the wheel over and they crash through the barbed wire. “Cas, what the hell?”    
  


“We need away from the road!!” Cas explains, holding a hand up to try to fend off the horrible glare. The spotlight fades as they hit forest, Dean swearing left and right as he guides Baby through tight swaths of tree trunks. They abandon her once it gets too much and make a run for it. The spotlight can’t keep up; it pans across trying to find Dean’s plaid in the overgrowth or Cas’s trench coat, but Cas grabs Dean and throws them both into a bush before it can. Dean spits out a leaf and glares at him. “You’re welcome.” Cas mutters back, except it’s breathless, because for some reason beyond the physical exertion, Cas can’t breathe. It’s then that he realizes he’d left the walkie talkie, their only connection to their friends, in the backseat of the car.

He takes in big gulps of air but it doesn’t seem to matter, or maybe those gulps of air do too much, because it feels like his head is floating. He squeezes his eyes shut and just holds onto Dean; he needs to know that he’s still there but the panic in his skull finds the image of him too much.

“Cas?” Dean whispers, and it sounds far off. “Cas.” Cas can feel Dean’s grip on his arms, pulling at his coat sleeves like he’s trying to reel him back in. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Cas shakes his head then nods. “I’m fine, I just- am having trouble-” he takes another gulp of air because he keeps running out, and his confusion mounts. Is this what running normally feels like, to humans? Is it usually so uncomfortable and debilitating? Perhaps his vessel is just woefully - as Dean would say - flabby. Out of shape. 

“Breathing?” Dean gathers from Cas’s exaggerated gasps. The fear in his own chest calms down a little bit now he knows what’s happening. “Cas, it’s alright, look at me,” He puts a hand on his cheek, trying to convince Cas to open his eyes. “Cas, trust me,”

Cas finally does, of course. He takes a breath in and opens his eyes, and it’s a mixture of stunning adrenaline and comfort that goes through his body when he realizes he and Dean are sitting almost on top of each other within the poking branches of the bush. Dean pushes a stick out of his way so Cas can see his eyes clearly. “What’s happening?”

“You’re having a panic attack, doofus,” Dean smiles at him with his best bedside manner. “It’s fine, happens to me all the time. Just-” He grabs hold of Cas’s hand and raises it so Cas can see. “Up means breathe in, down means breathe out.”

“But what if-” Cas throws a glance up, focused completely on the wrath of heaven that could descend upon them at any moment. 

“Since when are we scared of a couple dicks with wings? We’ll be fine. C’mon, have I ever let you down?”

Confidence leaks back into Cas at the reassurance, and a glint reaches his eyes as he says, “Well…”

Dean mimes out a sarcastic laugh and holds their hands up again. “Alright, asshole, breathe,” He lifts their hands slowly, Cas’s breath growing past what he’s comfortable with, then lets them down even slower. Over and over again until it’s all Cas is thinking about, and he knows his heartbeat has stopped hammering so fast against his ribs. It’s still there, the panic still bothers him, but it’s manageable, which he guesses is what Dean is going for. He nods at Dean in thanks.

“I’m okay. We can go.” Dean ignores him to do three more breaths, which Cas grudgingly follows. Then he highers himself into a crouch, still holding Cas’s hand.

Dean pulls him back onto the run and they sprint until they see a cabin in the distance. They make eye contact and agree; they can take whoever owns the cabin, if they need to. It’s Cas who pounds on the door and Dean who peeks in the window, which means he only looks after the owner answers the door and Cas has grabbed him by the throat. 

_ “Corbett?”  _

Cas lets him go almost immediately, but the poor boy’s eyes stay wide. “Uh-D- Dean?” Dean steps up and puts a hand on Cas’s arm, pulling him back to try and make Corbett a little less on edge. It works a little bit; the nervous man withdraws slightly and rubs at his neck. “Dean… Winchester, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods encouragingly and steps in front to ease his way in the cabin. Cas has a hand on his back trying to push him in faster, still aware of heaven’s spotlights looking out for them. “Been a while, buddy. Mind if we-?” He pats Corbett on the shoulder as he just stands there and stutters and Cas and Dean both get to work drawing warding on the walls. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Sigils, to keep the angels off your back,” Dean explains quickly, glancing at the guy’s bewildered expression. “Dude, what are you wearing?” 

Corbett looks down, offended, and puts his hands on his hips. “A robe- I didn’t expect  _ visitors _ !” The robe is baby blue and it stops above his knees, and Dean raises an eyebrow at it. “Hey!” He throws his hands up. “Listen, I’ll change and all, but what are you doing here? And who is he?” 

“Cas. He’s- well, you can trust him.” 

“...why do I need to trust anyone?” Corbett says suspiciously. He walks over to his bedroom and reemerges wearing actual clothes, not comforted by Dean’s silence. “Do you guys want something to drink- water, coffee?” His politeness takes over by instinct, and he gestures his guests to his table. “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

“Coffee would be great.” Corbett looks over at Cas and he nods the same. “Uh, we got angels on our trail.” 

“And that’s… a bad thing?” 

“I’m not on their good list.” Now it’s Corbett’s turn to raise an eyebrow from the coffee maker. Dean smiles awkwardly. To this poor guy, being on an angel’s shitlist probably isn’t a ringing character endorsement. 

“It’s a long story; promise we’ll tell you some other time. But, uh, you mind if we lay low here for a while?”

Corbett shrugs, not sure he has much of a choice, but he plops down coffees in front of the three of them anyway. “Looks like we have some time then. But, um, Dean… how’s Ed?” The kid looks at Dean hopefully, flashing some puppy-dog eyes that even Sam would be jealous of. Dean looks at Cas for help, but of course Cas has no freaking clue what Dean’s conflicted about. He looks back at him without a care in the fucking world beyond burning his tongue on his coffee.

“He’s good. I mean, not- he’s- he was sad- he mourned you and all, if that’s what you’re asking.” The tips of Dean’s ears turn red and he changes the subject before he can shove his foot in his mouth. Last time Corbett talked to Ed, Ed was pretending to be in love with him. The key word being  _ pretending. _ “Anyway, so, hate to break it to you but heaven sucks.” 

Cas steps in then, helps soften the blow and explains with more eloquence than Dean could. Corbett takes the news surprisingly well, something about always figuring God was a dick (yeah, growing up gay in the Midwest will do that to you), although the fact that Cas was/is an angel threw him for a loop. 

“So you don’t have, like, wings or anything?”   
  


“I did. I do.” Cas frowns down at the table. After losing all but all of his grace, his wings are but a mangled decoration for him now. Especially being in heaven, not being able to fly around stings, it feels like he is moving in slow motion sometimes. Dean’s hand appears over the table and taps his, his fingers soft and consoling. He pulls back slowly and Cas wishes he would keep touching him. “I can’t fly now, not without my powers.” 

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah.” Cas smiles up at Corbett. The simple openness of this man is making Cas instantly fond of him. It’s a refreshing change of pace from hunters and ethereal creatures’ secretive nature. “It was worth it, though. I’m alive.” 

“... you’re in heaven.” 

Dean snorts, and Cas nods, amused. “I’m not here… naturally. Given the ability, I believe I would be able to traverse back to the mortal realm and live as… well, as a human.” He looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, who looks shaken by the information. 

Cas could go back and live on Earth as just a regular old human, and Dean… Dean’s dead. Dean’s dead at 41 and that’s that. The thought makes his heart sink like a rock in his chest. 

“Well,” Dean stands up and slaps a hand on the table, breaking the quiet of the cabin. “We should probably get going.”

“Wait.” Corbett stands too and grabs Dean’s arm, an action far more forward than he’s used to. “Dean, you gotta… please, tell me. What aren’t you telling me about Ed?” 

Dean sighs, looking around the cabin for a possible exit. His eyes land on a stupid framed photo of Corbett and Ed, taken like a selfie before front-facing cameras existed. His stomach twists in a knot. How is he supposed to ruin this guy’s happiness? He thinks Ed is gonna show up someday and they’re gonna be happy and together and gay in a dumb little gay paradise.

“Please. Dean, the truth.” 

The knot in his stomach twists further and Dean winces. He’s gotta tell him. Better that than the guy getting his heart ripped out when Ed finally shows up and doesn’t want him. He swallows and looks up at Cas, who’s frowning at him in confusion. Dean looks away. Better to look at Corbett. “Uh, listen, Corbett… Ed… he’s not in love with you.” 

Corbett blinks. “Wha- no, he- he said-” 

“Yeah, he lied,” Dean sighs and sits back down heavily. “Sorry dude, but…” He shakes his head. Corbett shakes his right back.

“No, he said he loved me.” 

“I know what he said!” It bursts out of Dean before he can stop it, louder than he meant. He pauses and clears his throat, and the whole cabin is silent. 

Cas puts a hand on Corbett’s shoulder. “I’m sure he meant what he said, in a way.” he says, talking out of his ass. He has no way of knowing what the situation was, but Corbett talks about this Ed man like they were close, friends, pals. 

Corbett keeps his eyes fixed on Dean. Dean sighs and turns his head, looking at the young man again. “Listen, I’m sorry,” But he can’t get another word out before Corbett starts crying. He puts his head in his hands and sobs, and Dean and Cas look at each other helplessly. Cas pats his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. Finally Dean heaves himself up and squats down next to Corbett. He tugs on his hands gently, pulling them away from his face, and Cas imagines this is how Dean dealt with it when Sam cried as a child. “Corbett, man… Ed loved you, just not… listen.” He stops and Cas can practically hear the ‘shit’ in his head as he searches for the right words. “Ed loved you enough to tell you he loved you, just so you’d be able to move on. To save you.” his voice is steadier now, quiet and firm. Cas stills, just listening. “And maybe he doesn’t want to come up here and shack up and watch Desperate Housewives, but,”

Cas watches Dean’s train of thought trail away as he catches his eye. He holds his gaze, and Dean looks heartbroken. He looks insecure. He looks like he did that night in the barn, when Cas recognized his self-loathing without a second thought. Now, the expression causes Cas physical pain, and he wants to reach out and soothe him. Instead, he just stares as Dean continues talking without taking his eyes off him. 

“I mean, he probably still wants to, y’know, have a beer or something. And that’s shitty, it’s- disappointing as fuck but… you gotta respect that.” He clears his throat and finally looks down. “Everything’s shitty right now.”

“Everything’s shitty.” Corbett agrees, sniffing. He was too lost in his own misery to notice the considerable tension in the room. Cas can’t get the image of Dean’s face out of his head, his words playing like a broken tape-deck over and over.

The rest of the goodbyes are said through a haze of Cas’s thoughts screaming at him, and it isn’t until they get back to the car, fuzzy small talk half-remembered, that Cas gets up the courage to say something. Still, he waits minutes into the car ride, because he doesn’t want to seem like he has been waiting to get into the car. The logic makes no sense but it controls him, and it makes his voice quaver when he finally says, “Dean?” 

“Yeah,” Dean smacks his lips and glances at him once, fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the radio. 

“Why did you want me?” 

Dean furrows his eyebrows and looks at Cas like he doesn’t understand the question. “Why did I…?”

“Why did you bring me- to go with you to the Garden.” Cas clarifies. Helpfully. Almost confidently, if he’s being generous with himself. 

Dean gives him an incredulous glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t have my powers, Dean. There are angels you could have brought with you that are far more powerful. Or, if you wanted to attract less attention, there are plenty of hunters who could slip under the radar, who are more skilled in combat.” Cas tries not to let his self-doubt seep into the words. He’s not sure if it works, because Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I dunno, because I didn’t want to bring those other guys,” he says defensively.

“Dean,” Cas pushes, insistent. His heart is speeding up in his chest and he feels like he might explode if he keeps going, but he has to. His momentum is already started, and the look in Dean’s eyes as he’d talked to Corbett is giving him strength. 

“What!” Dean sounds annoyed now, but it’s just more defense. He’s starting to feel like he’s being cornered into doing something terrible, like telling the truth.

“Dean.”

“Because I like you?” 

It’s even and it’s uncertain and it’s vulnerable. Dean is scared as hell, but then he looks at Cas and he gets terrified. A flicker of hurt passes across Cas’s face, and it’s so severe even Dean can’t miss it. 

Cas feels like a child. He feels like he’s being spoken to like a child. He had expected… but that was too much. Instead of simplicity and vulnerability, he heard patronization. “You don’t need to do that Dean.”

“Do what? I do like you, man. We’re- friends. Didn’t think I needed to spell that out for you.” Dean laughs nervously, completely un-fucking-aware of what is going on right now. 

Cas looks at his lap. “Claire has explained to me what ‘friendzone’ means, and I assure you, it’s unnecessary. It always has been.” Feeling is excruciating.

Dean sputters. He had not expected the word “friendzone” to come out of Cas’s mouth like… ever. “I don’t- I haven’t-”

“You’ve called me your brother multiple times.” Humiliation burns across Cas’s face. 

“No, no, I don’t mean it like- I’m not trying to  _ friendzone  _ you…” Dean laughs, a little crazed that he’s actually in this conversation. More that he’s about to- “I just- I want you around… because I  _ like having you around.  _ I want you around because I like seeing you and I like your grumpy little jokes and I like your dumb info dumps about plants and I like watching movies with you you’re only watching to humor my dumb ass…” Dean trails off, the little bit of pink in his cheeks matching Cas’s. “Listen, Cas, you’re not like a brother to me. I mean, I love my brothers, but I don’t love them like  _ that.”  _ He swallows, looking at the road in front of them. It stretches quiet and unremarkable, like it has no idea the progress being made in this old hunk of well-shaped metal. “Like this.”

He keeps facing straight ahead, fingers tapping out of beat against the wheel now. Cas is dumbstruck. The car is filled with the heaviness of it. It’s finally out there.  _ Dean loves him. _ Cas looks over at Dean, and lights throw his face into half shadow, and he looks beautiful. Cas reaches out and grabs his hand off the wheel and holds it in his own. Dean keeps driving. One handed.


	18. Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember those walls I built?  
> Well, baby, they're tumblin' down  
> And they didn't even put up a fight  
> They didn't even make a sound  
> I found a way to let you in  
> But I never really had a doubt  
> Standin' in the light of your halo  
> I got my angel now
> 
> It's like I've been awakened  
> Every rule I had you breakin'  
> It's the risk that I'm takin'  
> I ain't never gonna shut you out
> 
> Everywhere I'm lookin' now  
> I'm surrounded by your embrace  
> Baby, I can see your halo  
> You know you're my savin' grace  
> You're everything I need and more  
> It's written all over your face  
> Baby, I can feel your halo  
> Pray it won't fade away
> 
> Hit me like a ray of sun  
> Burnin' through my darkest night  
> You're the only one that I want  
> Think I'm addicted to your light  
> I swore I'd never fall again  
> But this don't even feel like fallin'  
> Gravity can't begin  
> To pull me back to the ground again
> 
> It's like I've been awakened  
> Every rule I had you breakin'  
> The risk that I'm takin'  
> I'm never gonna shut you out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one but sh we are leading up

“Castiel. Winchester.”

Dean almost runs into a fence again. 

Cas pulls his angel blade out before he even turns around to see the angel in the backseat. Naomi smiles pleasantly (as pleasantly as she can) and pushes the blade down. “Relax. I come in peace.”

“Yeah, why the fuck would you do that?” Dean slams Baby to a stop and brings out his own blade, looking pissed. Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him and Dean shivers at it.

“If she didn’t, we’d be captured already,” he points out. It makes Dean clench his jaw and hesitate. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

Naomi nods smugly. “Yes, Castiel, that never seems to work out, does it?”

Cas shrugs. “I have better things to do.”

Naomi smirks. “Is he ‘better things?’” She gestures at Dean and he chokes on his own spit. He finally lowers his angel blade while trying to get his breath, which Cas watches with a peculiar fondness.

“Why are you here, Naomi?”

Naomi crosses her arms. “You’re right about… you know who. And I want him gone.” Cas narrows his eyes, but Dean finally clears his throat and joins the adult’s table.

“You don’t like the big guy’s singing?” He jokes. Naomi rolls her eyes and breathes deeply like she’s centering herself. 

“It’s  _ incessant.  _ And…” She looks out the window and back at the men in the front seat. “I liked being a big fish, as you would say.” She glares at Dean, like it’s his fault humans have to come up with a stupid metaphor for everything. Which, given Dean says about 60% of the world’s slang, is fair. 

“So we’re getting rid of him. Good for us. Why are you here?”

“Is Jack going to rule?” Naomi asks Cas. Cas frowns. 

He looks over at Dean and he’s certain. “He’s a child, no.” Cas won’t let his child be burdened with the weight of the world on his shoulders. ”But you won’t, either.”

“So who will? You?”

Dean actually looks scared at the idea. Cas just smiles. Once, he’d thought he wanted that. Now? He has much smaller and more meaningful goals.“We will find suitable replacements, but you can be assured that things will be… satisfactory. No overreaching power, in heaven or on earth.” 

Naomi seems reassured by the answer. Somewhat. Dean throws his hands up. “So what, you’re just here for a check-in?” 

Naomi glares at him like he’s a bug on her shoulder. “I’m in charge of the search for the… anomaly.” She raises an eyebrow at Cas. “You’re going the wrong way.” Dean and Cas look at each other, then the walkie-talkie where Ash and Charlie have been feeding them directions. “I didn’t say your directions are wrong; I said you are going in the wrong direction. You want the fruit to destroy Daddy, you don’t go to Daddy’s garden.”

Dean furrows his brows. Hearing Naomi say “Daddy” is beyond creepy. “It’s the most powerful garden-”

“Wrong. It’s the garden with the most holy power.” Dean raises exasperated eyebrows, so fucking tired of the riddles. “That’s not what you’re looking for, Sword. You want the garden God has most forsaken. Ethereal, but haunted by the lack of God.”

“Oh.” Cas says softly. “Gethsemane.” 

Dean searches his brain. He’d read the bible out of necessity, for lore purposes, not out of interest or joy. In fact, he hated every second of reading that lying crap, so it takes him a minute to recall. “That’s where Jesus prayed, right?”

Cas nods, gaze lowering from Naomi’s bored one. “And God forsook him. The only place in the universe completely devoid of God.” 

“They renting? ‘Cause that sounds pretty good right about now.” 

Naomi sighs, impatient. “Go that way.” she points to the crossroad in front of them, to the right. “Your friends can get you the rest of the way.” A tense silence fills the air. “You’re welcome.” she huffs.

“This is a transaction, not a favor, sibling.” Cas says blankly, bitchily. He’s not about to give Naomi any more credit than she deserves. They lock eyes, and her gaze flits to Dean and back, asking a question she knows the answer to. “Goodbye, Naomi.”

“Goodbye, Cas.”

\-------------------------------------

“Do we trust her?”

Cas plays with the seam of his coat, thinking. “She doesn’t have any reason to lie.”

“Except for the whole she’s working for Chuck thing,” Dean points out, frustrated. He’s on Naomi’s path anyway, and Ash and Charlie are working on new directions just in case, but it drives him fucking crazy. “So she could just be fucking with us so we go get a useless pomegranate and eat shit when we try to gank Chuck.”

“Except she’s right, Dean. The Garden of Gethsemone is the most unholy holy place in the universe. Angels were forbidden from entering the place or else be severed from angelic ties forever.” Cas supposes that’s the reason it never entered his mind. He’d never had the option to go there before. “Besides, if she wanted us in Chuck’s hands, she could have taken us to him already.”

Dean rubs his eyes tiredly. “You’re right. Fuck, okay, you’re right.” He knows he should be happy that they have another half-ally, but it just muddies the waters in his head even more. He’s glad Cas is with him, because otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d be fucking crazy by now. “You think Edward Holey-Hands is gonna be there?” 

Cas blinks twice at Dean’s animated face. “Do you mean… Jesus?”

“Yeah.” Dean pushes down the corners of his mouth that are trying to turn into a grin. “What, you don’t like my nickname?” 

Cas scoffs disbelievingly. “It’s blasphemous.” He says, but he really means  _ filthy and ridiculous.  _

“Yeah, yeah, coming from former Sasha Fierce himself, that’s rich.” Dean teases. Cas can’t even find the room to be falsely offended, because Dean just made a Beyoncé reference to him. Dean notices his awe and laughs. 

“I listen to music!”

“Not my music!” Cas argues. He’d tried to get Dean to listen to his playlists several times, never succeeding in getting more than a few flippant insults. 

Dean blushes a little, shrugging. “Yeah well, Charlie had some of the same shit up here and… there was a little bit of time in between planning our jail break and everything.’ 

“So you listen when it’s Charlie playing it,” Cas gripes. 

Dean rolls his eyes, a wide grin on his face. Such a little bitch baby. “Charlie force fed me Britney Spears and Beyoncé over games of pool and cards; it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“But you liked it.” Cas crosses his arms. Dean rolls his head to look at the guy, who is obviously so ready to prove his point. 

“It wasn’t… the worst.”

“You liked it!”

“ _ Some of it.” _

“You  _ like Britney Spears and Beyoncé.” _ The light in Cas’s eyes is vicious and unyielding. 

“Yeah, well, Charlie said I should get into it now that I’m-” he falters. Cas looks at him expectantly, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before going with, “Dead.” Cas snorts and Dean fidgets. “Shut up.”

“Never.”

“You know what, I take it back. You mind if we swing back and pick up Mikey instead? At least he knew when to shut the fuck up.” There’s no bite in the joke. Cas smiles out the window, shaking his head. 

“I’m not sure Adam would feel too kindly about that,” 

“Yeah, well, he’s a big baby anytime he loses his emotional support angel.”

“I heard you don’t do so well without one yourself,” Cas replies, the teasing holding onto a little bit of seriousness. Dean notices the tip in tone and throws an awkward little look Cas’s way. 

“Yeah, well,” he starts again. “You’re better.”

Cas looks at his lap and tries to tamp down the wild butterflies in his stomach at the compliment. It doesn’t work, and he can’t bring himself to mind. 


	19. Angel With A Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get out your guns, battle's begun  
> Are you a saint or a sinner?  
> If love's a fight then I shall die  
> With my heart on a trigger
> 
> They say before you start a war  
> You better know what you're fighting for  
> Well, baby, you are all that I adore  
> If love is what you need, a soldier I will be
> 
> I'm an angel with a shotgun  
> Fighting 'til the war's won  
> I don't care if heaven won't take me back  
> I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe  
> Don't you know you're everything I have?  
> And I wanna live, not just survive tonight

This time when they fall asleep, Cas wakes to the sounds of Dean’s ragged breaths in the cool of the night. He sits up and looks and Dean is pushed halfway up on his elbows, hands over his face and fists curled into his eyes, pressing. 

“Dean?”

Dean looks over, sniffs. “Sorry,” he manages through a gasp. “Didn’t mean to- wake you-”

“Dean, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Dean shakes his head and throws open the Impala’s side door and vaults himself out of the car. Cas follows quickly, scrambling onto the rough pavement. Dean paces down the middle of the road, hands flapping in quick motions at his sides.

“Dean.” Cas follows, keeping his distance. 

“Seriously Cas, go back to sleep. Told you, happens all the time. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. It’s okay.”

“Really, you need your beauty sleep.” Dean pushes a jagged laugh out and looks back and Cas. He turns around now, pacing back toward him, and Cas stays in his way. 

“You are the only person I know who makes jokes while having a panic attack.” He says fondly, because now he’s caught on; that’s what this is. Dean had a nightmare, and he woke up having a panic attack. Cas grabs onto Dean’s hands and they’re clammy. Dean yanks them away quickly. 

“Stop it, Cas, I can’t, you’re fucking- making it worse-” he says quickly. Cas withdraws, guilt flooding into him. “Son of a bitch- just- go back in the car.”

“Are you saying that because you want to be alone or because you don’t want me to see you like this?”

Dean’s hands curl and uncurl themselves into fists and he stamps his boots on the ground. “The first one.” 

Cas nods and settles back into the backseat. He keeps the door open though, and a thought comes to him. “Dean, remember to-”

“If you tell me to breathe, so help me fuck I will kick your lily-white ass back to the Empty,” Cas shuts the door. He doesn’t peek through the window; he’s somehow very certain that would get him more threats, but he does see enough out of his peripheral vision to know that Dean sits up with his back against the front tire. 

They sit like that for so long Cas nods off, and the next thing he knows Dean is saying, “Rise and shine, feathers,” grumpily. Cas sits up and realizes Dean’s coat is draped over him, which makes him so happy he is almost awake by the time he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“G’morning, sunshine.”

That ping in his chest again.  _ Sunshine.  _ “How are you doing, Dean?”

“Peachy.” Dean yanks Baby into gear and they’re off again. Ah, well. You can’t win them all. 

\--------------------

The road doesn’t so much end as slowly fade out of existence. The black tar turns to gray and then an empty, flat white that Cas recognizes as the inner cogs of Heaven. According to Charlie, they need to “Haul ass through the administrative halls” until they see a KEEP OUT sign, circa dangerous mountain cliffs, which they will of course ignore all the way to the Garden of Gethsemane. 

Dean pulls Baby over right at the edge of the road, and Dean and Cas climb out. They select a few weapons from the trunk (The colt, Dean’s gun, a few angel blades, throwing stars that Dean  _ insists on _ ), and they’re off, hiking. But first: “I’ll be back for you, Baby. Don’t you let anybody get close, m’kay?” 

Cas gives her an awkward pat at Dean’s behest as a goodbye. 

They come to a door, as blank and nondescript as the ground, and Cas enters first. It’s a hallway that looks exactly the same to the rest in Heaven. Charlie warned that they wouldn’t have reception in the dense buildings, so Dean directs them from a list of instructions he wrote on his forearm. They go through hall after endless hall, meeting room and empty chambers, the inner workings of Heaven seemingly abandoned. They then enter a cavernous room, like a warehouse, and Cas stops dead. Dean walks around him, whistling. “Damn, this place is really homey, ain’t it,” he grumbles, just like he has been through the other rooms. It takes him a minute to notice Cas is stuck to the spot. “Yo, Silent Bob, you in there?”

He waves a hand in front of Cas and Cas eases back into motion. “Uh-”

“What’s up?” 

“Just- I recognize this room.”

Dean lifts a hand. “You recognized most of these rooms; it’s heaven. You lived here for like… a thousand years.”

“Billion.” Cas corrects, because he can’t help himself. Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Cougar. What’s up?”

“This is where Naomi brainwashed me.” Cas says quietly. He sees no reason to hide it; not anymore. Dean stares at him blankly. 

“This is bible camp?” He turns and looks around at the vast expanse of nothing. It looks like a giant elementary school gym, nothing special, nothing particularly menacing. “What’d they do to you?”

“Conditioned me.”

“For?” Dean doesn’t mean to be indelicate, but… he is. And he’s impatient.

Cas shivers, memories flooding back to him with unnecessary force. Dean pleading with him, Dean bloody, Dean joking and laughing and Cas’s angel blade protruding from his abdomen. Dean shocked at Cas’s violence, disgusted at Cas’s love, Dean telling him he loved him back. All bloody. All torn apart. All ripped apart by Castiel’s bare hands. “Killing you.”

“Me?” Dean says incredulously. He keeps a little smile until he looks at Cas and sees the pain in his eyes. All humor drops off his face. 

“Yes.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “They sure gave you a fuckton of room to do it.” he says glibly, because he can’t deal with  _ that _ right now.

“It was filled with you,” Cas corrects him again, because surely if Dean knew the horror- surely he would be able to see it too. The memories of Dean’s blood seeped into this floor, they never left. “Thousands. Maybe more. I… lost count.”

It hits Dean what he’s saying then, and he looks back at the giant room, trying to imagine his lifeless body that many times over. Even for his impressively gory imagination, he can barely make it seem real. He looks back at Cas, and the dead look in his eyes reminds him of that night in the crypt. It was really all they did, to brainwash him? Was try to fuck up his feelings for Dean? That’s the one thing Cas wanted that he wouldn’t let go of, not for heaven, not for anybody. Dean can’t take it. He can’t believe it. But he’s so grateful for it, for the enormity of having Cas in love with him. He touches his fingers to Cas’s elbow then, just barely, and Cas looks. “Hey, hey, I’m here, alright? Totally fine. Little bit dead, but y’know. Hotter than ever.” He flashes a bullshitting smile. 

Cas nods slowly, grateful for the anchor. He looks into Dean’s eyes, and this understanding passes between them, this understanding of something enormous and amazing and horribly stolen from them, horribly used against them by all these power-hungry forces for so long. Dean pulls away, body rigid, and he stalks off. “Dean?”

“Has it really just been fucking Chuck this whole time?” He fumes. He stomps right up to a pillar and punches it, and Cas can hear the dull thud of a soft object hitting an immovable one, followed by a curse. He turns around, nursing his hand, and glares at Cas like he holds the answer. “Keeping us apart?”

Cas furrows his brow. Dean thinks that… oh. He thinks that all this time, the Powers That Be have been keeping them from each other, pitted against each other, dancing around each other for the Plot of it. “No, Dean.” He says evenly, sadly. 

Dean stares until he can’t take it anymore. “Okay, I meant  _ other  _ than my stupidity.” He corrects, shame filling him. He thinks Cas is calling him on his bullshit, rightfully. 

“No, I didn’t-” Cas sighs. “Chuck didn’t plan this,” He says finally. Dean blinks at him and Cas knows he needs more explanation. “Dean, what he said the night he attacked… I- I was never even supposed to rebel, let alone fall in love with you. Let alone you with me.” He hesitates to say that word when Dean hasn’t said it himself, not really, not directly.

Dean swallows thickly. Cas can see the bob of his Adam’s apple from here. He’s looking at the floor, and he doesn’t look up as he says, “We weren’t... “

“Not written.” Cas confirms. “Not meant to be.” 

In their own way, it’s absurdly romantic. Dean looks up at him, and he can’t breathe. “Let’s get out of this room.” 

They get out of that room. 

It’s a few more hallways and rooms later when they walk into the garden.

Cas doesn’t know what he expected but it’s more breathtaking than that. Dean only slows for a moment, and they look at each other. The place is filled with short, gnarled olive trees, beautiful and ancient. The soil is sandy and rough, and it looks like a sacred praying ground. That, or a roadside visitors’ center landscaping. Same thing, kind of. 

“Where do we…” Dean looks over, and Cas has a branch pulled down to his face. “Are you… sniffing that leaf?”

Cas nods, serious. “It smells… pure. This whole place does,” He can feel Dean’s raised eyebrow more than see it. “Unholiness. It really is beautiful.” 

Dean grins, and gives the trunk nearest him a fond knock. “Who’da thought you’d be saying that, you,” The angel of the lord.

Cas gives him a fond look. “I’ve always had a soft spot for it,”

Dean snorts and looks away, forward. “Sap.”

Cas doesn’t deny it. They go further into the garden, wandering a few dozen feet away from each other, neither sure where they’re headed. It isn’t until he’s waist-deep that he realizes he needs help. “Cas!” 

Cas follows the sound of his voice, and he only manages to see Dean by stepping onto a section of the forest-covered in spongy green vines. It’s only then that he hears Dean’s muffled cries once more, and looks down to see him wrapped in vines, one tight around his head as a gag. “Dean!”

And then vines grab him by the ankles and drag him down to the forest floor. In an instant, the plants had taken both men into the depths. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short one. but dudes (gn), the next chapter... certified fresh


	20. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I was sixteen I cut myself a Mohawk  
> Because I wanted to walk the walk  
> And not just talk the talk  
> But it was a bit of a disaster because  
> I did the sides with kitchen scissors  
> Because I didn’t have any clippers  
> And I didn’t want to use a beard-trimmer  
> I’d made that mistake before
> 
> When you got home you didn’t want to talk about what I’d done  
> You said I’d let you down, I’d fucked around, when I was only having fun  
> With the way that you’ve been lately, you’ve no right to scream and shout  
> You and I, we’ve got a lot that we need to talk about
> 
> What’s the point in making vows that you’re never going to keep?  
> A lifetime lying awake means you’ll never get to sleep  
> And all the promises you made, that were painful and untrue  
> Of all the things you do they reflect worst on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> religious education, i'm using you to write my heretical gay love story. take that

“Cas…”

Cas wakes up with a pounding in the back of his skull, probably from when the vines pulled him under. He looks groggily over to where Dean is tied up as before, feeling vines tug at him the same way. They are being dangled in the air in a small clearing, sun glinting through the trees in a blue haze, making it seem as though it were dusk. “Dean?”

Dean lets out a sigh of relief and sags against his restraints. “Shit.” he mutters with a lisp gained from his gag. “Not really how I’ve been imagining seeing you tied up.”

Cas fights a ridiculous smile. His tone comes out biting to cover up his fondness. “Dean, while I’m incredibly glad for your newfound sexual liberty, I don’t think now is the time to be hitting on me.”

Dean gives a shrug and pretends his best friend didn’t eviscerate him. “Hey, if we’re about to die...” he grumbles back. An eyebrow lifts at him. 

Cas shakes his head ruefully. “You want me to know you’re interested in bondage.”

“It’s very important to me, Cas,”

“Could we talk about how we might be about to die, please?”

Dean nods. Each pull of his arms and legs makes the vines tighten on his limbs until they hurt. “Yeah,” he concedes, trying to chew through his gag with no success. “I’m stuck.”

Cas ignores Dean to retain sanity and gets a closer look at their surroundings. Stupidly, he hadn’t looked past their immediate area, but he can see that further in, the trees open up wide to reveal a grand tree. “Dean, are those pomegranates?”

“Good eye, Castiel.” A voice booms from behind them. A man comes out of the woods to Cas’s right, arms spread in greeting. The vines holding them instantly loosen, bringing the two men to a level where they can just struggle to reach the ground, giving them a better perspective to see their captor. The man is emaciated and mostly naked, a bright white cloth hanging over him, only dirtied by dust from the ground and the blood dripping from his head, where a crown of thorns cuts deep. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean mutters. 

“Please,” says the man, turning to him and snapping. The vines gagging them unwind themselves. “Just Jesus.”

“Uh, Cas,” Dean leans to the side as much as possible, talking out of the corner of his mouth like Jesus can’t hear them from five feet away. “Like…  _ the  _ Jesus Christ?”

“Yes, Dean.” Jesus rolls his eyes. He doesn’t look quite the same as all those paintings of him. Dean only tenses up a little. It’s kind of intimidating to have  _ thee Jesus  _ bleeding from the head and talking to you and walking at you at the same time. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Yeah, bet you said that one before,” Dean can’t help himself. Cas lets out a long-suffering groan, which, Dean has to agree with him there. “So you’re what… a witch now?”

Jesus ignores him and turns his attention to Cas. Cas swallows nervously. He doesn’t know what to expect from… from… “Jesus,” He nods his head, resists the urge to add a ‘Your holiness’ or something. He’s not an angel, and he doesn’t serve heaven. Not anymore. Jesus smiles at him, holding out arms speckled with blood, hands still hole-y. “Castiel.” Bizarrely, he reaches toward Cas’s neck and traces a line down the new scar down its middle. Dean clears his throat uncomfortably, whereas Cas is just too stunned to breathe “I’m sorry, I mean Cas.” Jesus looks back and forth between them, and Dean averts his eyes. “So, the fruit.” At first Dean thinks he’s been called a slur by God’s son. Then he remembers. “That is what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

“Yes…” Cas says slowly. “We just want to-”

“To end my father, or join him?”

“Uh…” Dean looks to Cas, clearly torn between lying or coming clean. To Jesus. Cas makes the choice.

“To end him.” he says gravely. Jesus nods at him, considering. Then, he smiles.

“You- you’re good with that?” Dean raises his eyebrows. 

Jesus laughs. He snaps again and the vines drop both Dean and Cas to the ground in heaps. “Ask me why I’m here.”

Cas, somewhat haltingly, takes the bait. “Why are you… here?” 

“Yeah, and why are you bleeding? Still, I mean. Is that just for the aesthetic, or...” Dean points at his head. He’s pretty sure if anyone could magick himself out of a torture hat, the witchy son of God could. Jesus gives him a bitter smile and touches one of the thorns. 

“Dean Winchester, I thought you of all people would understand that death does not mean the end of suffering.” Dean swallows wrong. Jesus seems pissed, and he doesn’t like the look in his eye that shows he knows  _ everything  _ Dean did and endured, all the times he died. Jesus looks back at Cas. “As for why I’m here, the answer is the same. I was the sacrifice. So I suffer.”

Cas looks around, a horrible realization growing in the pit of his stomach. “So you have to stay here…”

“Forever. In pain. Forever.” Jesus nods. He presses the wound in his side and it bleeds more profusely, the red running onto his sheet and staining it completely. The pain only seems a momentary distraction to him. “My father failed to mention it before I left.”

“So you didn’t know until you got here? Shit, man, that is fucked up.” Dean can’t believe he’s empathizing with Jesus right now. He stands and brushes himself off, then offers a hand to Cas. He takes it. 

Jesus looks down at his feet, looking strangely small. “No. I knew the first time I prayed on this hill. Why do you think I begged for mercy?” The men stare awkwardly at each other, none knowing what to say about that. “You’re looking for the fruit. Come.”

Jesus turns on his heel and stalks off toward the larger clearing, snatching an olive off a nearby tree and popping it in his mouth. Dean and Cas share a look, then follow. Nothing else to do. “Then why did you go through with it?” Cas asks.

Jesus grins and turns to walk backwards. He doesn’t seem to notice the tree trunks he bumps into, just rolling off them and continuing. “I was the big brother. What else was I to do? Let my siblings rot?”

Dean swallows hard. “But all that shit about penance- it’s just made up. By Chuck, by  _ your dad.”  _

Jesus pauses. “Yes. It does hurt when you finally learn you’re just a part of the parable. The grand story.” He raises his arms, paints a sarcastic rainbow in the air. “Unfortunately I learned that too late.”

“So you hate your dad as much as we do.” Dean says it confidently, but then Jesus meets his eyes and Dean feels like a hypocrite. He looks away. 

Jesus turns back around. “Are you asking if I forgive him?”

“... yeah.”

Jesus’s back is lax as he answers, “Does anyone?” They come into the shadow of the tree, pomegranates laying scattered around. “I was meant to guard the tree.” He picks up a half rotten pomegranate and tosses it. It hits the trunk with a dull thud. “And I am.” He turns around then, arms crossed, that twisted smile back on his face. Dean and Cas both stop. There is something foreboding in the sudden change in mood. Dean is suddenly aware that although they were untied, they were never free. “Why do you want to kill God?”

Dean looks at Cas. He shifts back and forth, deciding what to say. He decides on the simplest truth. “He’s possessing our child.” 

Dean chokes on his spit and gives Cas an incredulous glance. He’s practically telling  _ Jesus Christ  _ that they are- that they’re Jack’s gay parents? 

“We want- we need him back.”

“And Chuck’ll never give us our freedom otherwise.” Dean says quickly. He wants to make sure Jesus knows they aren’t in this for  _ all  _ selfish reasons. Cas gives him a weird look. 

Jesus glares at them for a long moment, and Dean is sure that he’s about to be choked to death with thorny enchanted Jesus-vines, when he smiles. “All this, for one child?”

“Jack is good.” Cas says sincerely. Dean’s heart aches.

“He doesn’t deserve this, man.” Dean adds desperately. “Please, you gotta know what-” he falters. Jesus had never gotten to be a dad. At least, he’s pretty sure. “We’re just trying to be better than your dad. And mine.” Dean will not cry in front of Jesus Christ, he will  _ not. _

Cas will not cry in front of Jesus Christ, he will  _ not.  _

Jesus looks between them, appraising. He waves a hand and a branch lowers down in front of Cas. “Go ahead.”

Cas hesitantly reaches out and grabs the pomegranate nearest him. He tears it from the tree, and the earth does not shake, the sky does not shatter. Cas looks at Dean, and Dean looks back. Jesus points them toward their destination. “Cas, Dean, tell my dad something for me, when you see him.”

Dean and Cas look at him expectantly. 

“Tell him to go to hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is. my favorite chapter to write of this whole fic. we are wrapping up, folks. thanks for sticking along with this crazy ride


	21. And Then We Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying alone touching my skin I'm falling under  
> A girl like me and I can't hold it in, it makes me wonder  
> Is this for real? It's not what it seems  
> You're like an angel, I'm running now my feet off the ground, ohTake me, touch me
> 
> Won't you hold me close?And then we kiss, your love comes alive on my lips  
> I feel a rush coming over me, over me  
> And when we touch this moment when everything's still  
> I close my eyes and then we kiss

Dean starts laughing the second they find the bizzaro door in the garden that leads them back to heaven’s bowels. Cas joins in too, fueled by the mania of adrenaline, and soon they are bent over and collapsed on the ground respectively, panting with wide smiles. Cas talks first, tears in his eyes. “We just met Jesus. Jesus, the son of God.”

Dean nods, eyes fixating on the happy tear running down Cas’s cheek. It reminds him too much of that night in the dungeon and he crawls over and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. “And, surprisingly, I think I’d wanna get a beer with the guy. Or smoke a blunt.” Dean adds, amusement fading into tenderness that has nothing to do with Jesus Christ. Although he does, for the record, think Jesus deserves a blunt. His hands are still on Cas’s cheeks.

Cas stays resolutely still, eyes glued to Dean’s face. “Me too.” And the idea sounds ridiculous and amazing, and Dean’s eyes are so beautiful.

Dean bends down and kisses Cas, long and sweet and intentional. Not rushed or spur of the moment, no ambiguity about what exactly the feelings are. It’s overwhelming. Dean settles his hands on either side of Cas and leans into him. They stay that way for a while, wrapped up in each other. 

“Dean-” Cas says without much conviction.

“Mhm-”

“We have to meet the others.” Neither of them makes a move to stop kissing.

“Mhm, killing God, yeah yeah,” 

“Dean,” Cas wriggles out of his grasp and tries to worm his way under his arms. Dean starts laughing. “We can’t keep making out here forever.”

Dean puts a hand on his chest and Cas stops moving even though he’s put no pressure on him. “But time works wonky in heaven.” He raises an eyebrow.

Cas is trying not to smile. “Dean.”

Ten minutes later, they move on. 

“Cas, has anybody ever told you that you’re hot?” Dean calls after Cas like the straggler in a 5th grade field trip. Cas rolls his eyes.

“I think Rowena has, yes.”

“Oh.” Dean’s a little let down; he was kinda looking forward to being the first. “Well, she was wrong. You’re  _ really hot.” _

Cas pauses at the end of the hallway, glancing back at Dean before going right. “Are you checking me out?”

“Are you asking if I’m looking at your ass?” Dean grins. This is the kind of flirting he’s used to. The feel of Cas’s stubble still stings his cheek, which is new, but he thinks he likes it. “The answer is yes. How the fuck you made me hot for a middle aged dude’s ass in suit pants, I will never know,”

Cas is really glad Dean can’t see the satisfied smile on his face. “If I’m middle aged, then I’m going to have a very long life.” 

Dean knocked his fist against the walls absentmindedly, thinking about it. “Good.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, fucking finally, they reach the end of the line. The hallway opens up to a back alley that looks like it could be in the middle of Chicago. Smells like it, too. “What the hell?”

“Not quite.” Cas looks altogether too pleased at his joke, and Dean mocks him. 

“Oh yeah, you’re hilarious. Where are we going?”

Cas rolls his eyes and grabs Dean’s arm to look at the directions they’d written there. They’re a bit smudged, but towards the end, it says, “Alley- swing a right. Walk straight until you hit a truck stop.”

“Truck stop, great.” Dean mumbles and stomps off in the right direction. “I’ve had enough of those for a lifetime.” He can sense Cas opening his mouth to be a smartass, and he holds out his hand. “Don’t say it.”

Cas pressed a smile down. He reaches out for Dean’s hand again, and though he looks surprised by the action for a moment, he relaxes and lets him swing their hands between them as they walk. Cas has to keep reminding himself that this is real, that Dean is really in love with him. It would all seem too good to be true, if they weren’t on their way to eject God from their adopted nephil. As it is, it’s still hard to believe.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean’s palm starts sweating the second the truck stop is in sight at the very end of the road, and he lets go of Cas’s hand. The ugly cinder block building is huge and lit up with high light poles, and it looks entirely out of place. “Why the fuck is all this out here?” Dean asks, partially to stave off his stupid nerves. 

Cas shrugs. “I think… these are the last tendrils of the heaven that used to be. These are the remnants of people’s memories; the unremarkable places that people can’t quite forget.” 

“Anything here from your head?”

Cas huffs like it’s a joke, looking absently out in the distance. “No.” His mind is elsewhere.

Dean bumps his shoulder. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Cycles of abuse.”

“Jesus, Cas.” He laughs then, with the relevance of the curse to the subject. “Kinda heavy topic for the end of heaven, ain’t it?” the joke falls flat. “Why?”

“We are two incredibly fucked up individuals, Dean.” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about, I’m perfectly well adjusted.”

“Dean, I’ve watched over the earth for millions of years, and I have seen so-called monsters do good things and good people do horrible things and victims turn into the very kinds of people they were most afraid of.” 

Dean nods uneasily. Nothing about the start sounds like a conversation he wants to be in. “Okay?”

“But one thing I’ve never given up on… one thing that you reminded me of- is that people are capable of change. All people, always.”

“Cas-”

“Dean… we’re not our parents.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Jesus, are we at that conversation already? I thought that happened at like… the 5th anniversary mark,” Dean swallows hard, ridiculously, at the slight implication that Dean thinks they’ll be together at the five year mark. But… he thinks they will. Cas meanwhile just sighs at his joking attitude, and Dean instantly feels bad. 

“I’m saying you are not your father.” 

Dean slows, legs itching to run. “What’re you talking about, Cas?” he mutters instead, crossing his arms and looking down.

“What you said to Jesus… about being better than your father.” A beat of tense silence.

“ _ Our  _ fathers,” Dean corrects him.

Cas eyes him shrewdly. “I didn’t grow up with mine. Other than my… previous faith in his orders, Chuck didn’t affect my early life at all.”

Dean snorts. If he didn’t adore Cas for his vague and incredibly obvious way of saying ‘you’ve got daddy issues,’ he would probably hate him for it. “I know I’m fucked up, Cas.” it comes out too harsh, and he purses his lips and tries again. “I know my dad… did a number on me.” Cas waits, willing Dean to keep talking. “I love the guy, he tried hard, he did his best… but some people’s best… when they’re really fucked up, sometimes it ain’t good enough for a kid.”

“John was… unkind to you. Hurt you.”

Dean’s eyebrow twitches. He and Cas have talked about this before. Cas knows everything John did to him and Sam. “I’m way more fucked up than he is.”

“You would never-”

“What? Hurt Jack? Scream at him?” Dean laughs humorlessly. “I was gonna  _ kill him,  _ Cas! I tried to shut him in a Ma'lak box!”

“There were extenua-”

“You can’t just give me a  _ pass _ on that because you think I’m swell, Cas!”

Cas swivels on his heel and stops dead, making Dean almost run into him. Instead he shutters to a stop and reluctantly raises his eyes to Cas’s steely glare. “Don’t use my feelings for you as a punchline, Dean. And don’t mistake my forgiveness for giving you a pass.” Dean worries his lip between his teeth, nodding. “I swore to protect Jack, Dean, and I have, even from you. So you should know, if I trust you around him, then I believe wholeheartedly that you will not do it again.” 

Cas reaches out for Dean’s hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. Dean’s fingers twitch like he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. “When I was with Lisa… when I got- like my dad- I freaked out… But with Jack… I got lost. I got so fucked up from thinking Chuck made our lives not real that- I forgot to think about how it- how he sees stuff.”

Cas stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m telling you this because I want to raise him, and I want to be with you. Understand?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re telling me I gotta straighten out.”

“I’m telling you I trust you. With my life, and my heart, and my child, Dean.” Cas tries to put as much feeling behind the words as he can, desperate to make Dean understand that this conversation started as a bridge rather than a reprimand. “Neither of us are without faults, and yet when I think about our future together, it just looks… beautiful. Peaceful.” 

“Sure sounds like a proposal, buddy.”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t know you liked the idea of marriage.”

Dean blinks right back at him. “This. We’re not talking about this right now.” He looks up at the washed-out sky above them. “Tell me more about this millions of years of watch.”

Cas considers letting out another sigh but decides against it. “I think you would have liked Alexandria.” he says instead. “The knowledge there… fascinating.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m not much of a library person, Cas,”   
  


“Yes you are.” he argues, finally annoyed. “You just have to be interested in the subjects. And there would certainly be subjects that interested you in Alexandria.” Dean seems somewhat unconvinced, still. “Plus they had a delightful game- something akin to hopscotch, I believe, but with more alcohol and nudity involved.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? And did you partake in this little game, huh?” He looks back at him, gaze settling on the curl of hair right behind Cas’s ear. It’s cute. It’s the reason he notices when Cas’s ears go pink at the tips.

“Maybe.”

“You son of a bitch! Oh my god, you partied with Alexandrians, fucker,”

Cas makes an amused noise. “Yes, well. Gabriel can’t have all the fun.”

A grin cracks across Dean’s face. There’s silence as he stares at the back of Cas’s head, emotion rushing forward, and this time he lets it go. “I love you.” he says quickly, surprising himself that he’s able to get it out like a normal person, just those three words. He has the overwhelming need to kiss Cas again, which is something he can  _ do,  _ so he does it. His lips meet Cas’s clumsily, with a surprised humph on the angel’s part, and tries again with more intent this time. 

Cas feels like he might cry again at the out-of-the-blue affection. Like an “I love you” (the first I love you, really) is just something natural that pops into Dean’s head in conversation. He settles his hands on Dean’s bare hips under his shirt and feels Dean smile against his lips. “I love you too.” he takes the opportunity to repeat, just as naturally. 

Dean only blushes a little when he pulls away and wipes the spit shine off of Cas’s lips. “Was kinda hoping you still had the juice to blow up lights,” he admits. Cas grins widely, looking at the street light high above them.

“Sorry, not enough for that, but-” he detaches himself from Dean and looks around, picking up a chunk of concrete and hurling it at the lightbulb. It breaks with a spark and a shatter, and glass rains down lamely. Dean looks at him like he’s roped him the moon. “Close enough?”

Dean laughs. It is. It is. 


	22. Fuck You (Very Very Much)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look inside, look inside your tiny mind, now look a bit harder  
> 'Cause we're so uninspired  
> So sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor
> 
> So you say it's not okay to be gay, well, I think you're just evil  
> You're just some racist who can't tie my laces  
> Your point of view is medieval
> 
> Fuck you (Fuck you), fuck you very, very much  
> 'Cause we hate what you do  
> And we hate your whole crew  
> So, please don't stay in touch
> 
> Do you get, do you get a little kick out of being small-minded?  
> You want to be like your father, it's approval you're after  
> Well, that's not how you find it
> 
> Do you, do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful?  
> 'Cause there's a hole where your soul should be  
> You're losing control a bit, and it's really distasteful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eat your heart out eric kripke and bob singer, you fucking suck.
> 
> tw: brief suicide mention at the top of the chapter. jump to "fuck you" if you wanna skip it

“What’s wrong, Chuck, nervous?” Dean asks cockily. He swaggers toward Chuck, who looks like he’s simultaneously harmless and self-assured in Jack’s body. It reminds him of Belphegor, if Belphegor were devoid of any remotely charming qualities. “You should be. We’re new and improved, evolved and shit.”

“Oh, so suicide really was a level up for you, huh?” A flash of unbelievable pain crosses Dean’s face, but he wipes it off almost as quickly. Cas looks at him, startled, because Dean doesn’t deny it. “Sorry, not suicide. That’s too direct for you. More like death by negligence, right Dean? It was kinda pathetic, even for you.”

Dean breaks into a snarl. “Fuck you.”

“There he is! The king of witty comebacks.”

Dean tries to get his anger under control. “You wrote most of ‘em. So if anything, it’s your fault.”

Chuck crosses his arms and grins. “Yeah, that’s true. I guess next time around I’ll write a better leading man. One that’s actually brave underneath.”

Cas steps forward, but Dean holds him back, an easy smile coming to his face. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead. You’re just mad because I wouldn’t follow your neat little blueprint. Shit, you deadbeat dads are never about the parenting, but the second we decide to live our own lives, it’s like you’re Andy Fucking Griffith.”

Chuck smirked. “Maybe we just thought you’d measure up to the heroes you looked up to as a kid. Maybe we thought you’d man up one day.”

“Yeah, well, guess you  _ and  _ my dad were wrong about me, because now… now I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what a man does, or how much I sound like John Wayne, or if I cry at a dumbass romcom. I’ve got a kid and I’ve got a family, and I cook waffles on Sundays, Hell, guess you and my dad were wrong about me, because now- now I’m full on in love with a guy!” he points back at Cas wildly. Cas stands straighter, but his eyes shift around. 

  
“Technically, not a guy.” he interrupts. It breaks the tension completely. Dean pauses and turns to look. Chuck is also staring at him.

“What?”

“I just mean,” Cas puts an arm up, abandoning a gesture. “This is just a vessel. I’m not technically a man as you would classify,”

Dean’s mouth is halfway open, his brows furrowed. A silence. “Okay, we do not have time to unpack that right now, okay man? Uh- okay,” he turns back to Chuck. “I’m in love with- a _guy-adjacent_ _dude_. Yeah?” he glances back at Cas, who gives him a little smile. Chuck interrupts their Moment with a tilt of the head and an uncertain high pitched noise. Dean glares at him. “What?”

“I mean, technically, your dad  _ kinda  _ kne-”

“Okay, everybody shut the fuck up!” Dean shouts. “You know what, this is my fucking speech here-”

“Oh, is it?” Chuck’s derision sounds bizarre coming from Jack’s mouth. He twists his young face into a smirk. “Listen, watching you have some long-awaited character development is great and all, but…” he shrugs. “Not really my style.” He raises his eyebrows. “I prefer my characters more… static.” he snaps his fingers and everyone freezes. Dean’s face is pulled into a frown, hands balled at his side. Ash and Sam and Charlie and Michael, all statue-esque. “That’s better.” Chuck walks through them casually. He flicks Dean in the nose. He runs a hand through Sam’s hair. “I always wanted to do that.” He even gives Michael a good kick in the shin. In a moment of pure inspiration, Chuck approaches Cas. “And you, always fucking  _ you.  _ My dumbass Constantine knock-off, you were my worst work.” He sneers at Cas, and then he slaps him in the face.

Cas’s face remains still, even as a handprint builds red on his cheek. “I’m not your work.”

Chuck starts. “What the-”

Cas steps into his space and glares. “You may have created me, but I was never yours.” Chuck starts backing up, snapping his fingers desperately to no effect. 

“So what-” he tries to muster up some bravado. “Whose are you? Dean Winchester’s?” 

Cas smiles. He glances over at Dean as his hand comes up to grip Chuck’s wrist. “No. That implies I am owed to someone. I’m not. I choose who I want, and so does Dean. And that’s what you can’t stand.” He twists Chuck’s arm behind his back easily, aware every second that he can’t hurt him, not really. Can’t hurt Jack. Chuck yelps in pain. “I used to have faith in you. And then, even after that, I had faith that you were cruel and capricious, an unjust and evil god. But you’re not.”

Chuck snorts, even in his state. Cas pulls him along with him, toward the spell that sits unfinished in front of Sam. Chuck resists, flailing, pathetic. “Then what am I?”

“Sad.”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to save the day with love and forgiveness. Save  _ me  _ with love and forgiveness. Please, I’ll puke.”

Cas throws him to the ground and keeps him there with a glare that clearly carries the threat of a harsh kick to the face for any wrong move. “No. You misunderstand me.” He picks up the pomegranate and a knife, and he looks at Chuck. “You are not remarkable, Chuck. You are not unique. Your story has been told again and again, and it never gets better. It is miserable and pathetic and futile. And it’s dumb. Our story-” He gestures around to his friends, the family he’s gathered here, “-is one of hope and freedom that  _ means something _ . That comes to a bountiful end.”

“Says who? I’m the fucking writer here.” Chuck spits from the ground. His spite comes through as hatred, his desperate need to be awed coming apart at the seams. He will destroy his creation if it does not respect him. He will rip it apart with his teeth if it will not obey.

His creation has lost its shame though; it wears its rebellion brazenly. “No, you were.” Cas says decisively. “You started this, but you lost control long before you realized you had.” Yes, he and Dean and Sam and Jack, all of them, they’d been building their own ending long before now, long before Chuck had finally caught on. He smiles at him. “Now we have our say. These are our lives. We get all the votes. And we choose a happy ending.”

He holds the two pieces of pomegranate in his hands and squeezes them over the bowl. It runs down his arms like blood, but this victory doesn’t require a sacrifice.

“Oh, and your son wanted me to pass on a message.” Cas can’t remember it clearly right now, all his anger and purpose swirling together and clouding his memory. Something about garish blood against pure white, and anger that’s lasted millenia. “Go fuck yourself.”

A few Enochian verses more and the spell swirls to life. A yellowish haze lights up the bowl and drifts to Chuck. It seems he’s accepted his fate, because he doesn’t try to crawl away. He breathes it in, and it envelopes him from the inside out. He glows. For a long second he screams, and Cas’s blood runs cold with fear that he’s made some mistake. Fear that he’s hurting Jack. 

But then the light slowly fades into two, and Chuck is hurled away from Jack. Cas runs to his child, and Jack blinks up at him. “Cas?” Jack’s face lights up through confusion and pain, and Cas feels relief flood through him. He barely remembers that the creator of the universe is standing behind him until Jack looks and points.

Chuck is laughing. He is defeated, and he has been tossed away from Jack, and he’s laughing. “Oh, Cas, Cas,  _ Castiel.”  _ He smirks. “You think you’re so clever, so suave. You think it would really be that easy?” He snaps his fingers and everyone around them springs to life, this time struggling to move and kept at a distance, just present enough to bear witness. “You forgot one thing, and  _ that  _ is that Jack doesn’t have my power anymore, and  _ I  _ have the power of me  _ and  _ my sister.”

Cas looks at Jack to confirm, though he can already feel the weakness of Jack’s grace against his skin. Jack will be no use to them in this fight, and he confirms it with a soft nod. Cas merely squeezes his shoulder. It’s okay. He looks up and makes eye contact with Dean once again. He’s moving his eyes frantically from Cas to his left, beyond Chuck’s eyeline. Cas looks to the spot. He can’t help but break out into a grin himself. 

“Oh, brother dearest, are you sure about that?” Amara asks lightly. She straightens out her pantsuit sleeves and looks at Chuck like he’s a two-bit comic onstage after his time is up. 

Chuck blanches at the sight. “Amara- but I-”

“Absorbed me, yes. We were going to fight together, right? Defend ourselves against the hateful humans who betrayed us.” She stalks toward Dean and throws a fond but piercing glance his way. At the look, Dean regains his ability to move, and he clears his throat and looks like he’d rather the ground swallow him up.

“Listen, Ama-”

“I don’t care.” Amara cuts him off with a smile. She brushes Dean’s chin with her knuckles, and it bizarrely looks like a mother reassuring her son. His eyes widen and she looks away. “You did what you had to, and I- I understand.” Then her attention turns back to Chuck. “Some threats have to be dealt with.”

“Amara,” Chuck says warningly, “I might not have your power, but a fight between us is still going to be catastrophic. It’ll-”

“No.” Amara shrugs. “Not if I’m much more powerful than you.”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “But you’re not. You’ve been fighting against me this whole time-”

Amara cuts him off with a laugh. “You really think you’re the smartest person in the room, don’t you?”

“I’m not a person.” Chuck deflects stubbornly. 

“Oh yes you are.” She crosses her arms and stands in front of Jack, sending a little wink to where he and Cas are huddled on the ground. “You try to deny it, but when it comes down to it, you are just  _ some guy.  _ And a worse one than most of those gathered here.”

Chuck glares at her. Cas has the distinct feeling that this might be the most demeaning thing she could have said to her brother; he has the idea she’s said it before. “I’m still stronger.”

“You forgot one thing.” Amara smiles a peculiar little smile, and she looks at Cas, raises her eyebrows. Finally it dawns on him, and he stands. 

“Jack.” he says triumphantly, still holding his kid’s hand. 

Chuck scoffs. “What about  _ him?  _ I’ve been possessing him this whole time.”

Cas looks down at Jack proudly. Jack looks scared. “Jack woke up the Empty.” Cas smiles. Dean’s brows are furrowed in confusion, but Cas nods at him, reassuring. “And the Angels and Demons, your eternal battle of Good versus Evil, they have been warring there.”

Chuck crosses his arms. He’s starting to get uncomfortable, starting to get scared at the defiance slowly seeping into his enemies’ limbs as Amara’s effect reaches them. “And?”

Dean’s mouth opens into a wide ‘o’ shape. “And what happens to their souls when they die in the afterlife, asshat?” He grins. He starts to advance on Chuck too, drawing closer with Amara and Cas. 

“They cease to exist.”

“Wrong.” Amara says triumphantly. 

“They are redistributed to the vast nothingness of the universe.” Cas answers.

Dean nods. “Way different. Junior year physics is finally coming in handy. See, matter can’t be created  _ or  _ destroyed.”

“The law of conservation!” Sam supplies helpfully from a dozen feet back. Amara’s influence is less on him, so he still struggles to move. He ends up settling for pulling Jack back to the safety of the group. 

Dean points back at him. “Thanks, Urkel!” he swivels his head to look at Chuck. He’s beginning to catch on. His hands start to shake. 

“Me. They were redistributed to me.” Amara holds out her hands, and Chuck tries to inch away. 

“Wait, Sis, please-”

“No.” Amara answers coldly. She takes a step forward and grasps Chuck’s wrists with her hands. “Brother, you have had all of creation to show mercy. You have had an eternity to change. You didn’t. You consumed your own sister to  _ win a game of ego. _ ”

“I’m so sorry- I’m- I’m begging you-”

“The end.” Amara squeezes, and Chuck bursts into ash. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put off editing and publishing this chapter because it's almost the end. one more chapter, a few more days, and then this lovingly crafted little work of mine is finished. thank you all for coming along on this ride with me


	23. Soft Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter's not named after a song. In (I think) true form to the meaning behind this story, it's named after a fanwork, a love poem, written by a fan on good ole tumblr.com about Stucky. 
> 
> Love,  
> Time stops, doesn’t it?  
> Are we not testaments to this?  
> Two old, misplaced souls,  
> Asleep for seventy years?  
> So close your eyes, love.  
> Maybe seconds can be minutes  
> and minutes can be hours  
> and hours can be unending eternities  
> Where I don’t have to open my eyes  
> To a reality without you.  
> So, let’s sleep.  
> Let the world go to hell.
> 
> For we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.  
> We are good people, and we’ve suffered enough.
> 
> find here: https://cardiamachina.co.vu/tagged/seventy%20years%20of%20sleep

“What would you like?”

Dean and Cas look at each other, look back at their family. “What - what do you mean?” Dean asks, like the question is completely foreign. Which… it is. 

“What would you like for me to do, in regards to you?” Amara gestures at the group of them like it’s obvious. “It’s your choice.”

“You’re not gonna… You’re just gonna do what we want?” Everyone else seems too shocked to speak, but Dean’s surprise is coming straight out of his mouth. Amara steps closer to him and puts a hand on his cheek, and he makes an effort not to flinch. 

“Dean, I meant what I said. I don’t blame you for… I just want to move past it. Past everything.” She looks down, and her eyes shine with tears. She hates that she had to kill Chuck, wretched though he might have been. He was her brother. “I want to make things right. So… what would you like?”

Dean blinks. “I want to live.” he says before he can think about it. Amara raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I just… I thought I wanted to die, that I didn’t care, but… I care.” He looks at his family around him, at where Cas and Sam are supporting a weak Jack. “I want to live. Can you… I mean, everybody, too. If- if that’s what-”

He looks uncertainly around him. Everyone he sees nods, minus a couple of the angels and demons, which- they weren’t ever living in the first place. Sam stands up straighter and pipes up. “Yeah, can we- can you take us back to after we thought- we thought we got Chuck?” he asks hopefully. He’s crying too. “I wanna do some stuff differently.”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes for a second, and he turns to Amara again. “Oh, and give Cas his grace back, will you?”

“No.” Cas finally stands and passes Jack to Sam so he can go to Dean and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“What- what do you mean?”

Cas smiles at him, bittersweet. It reminds him far too much of his Confession, and Dean shrugs away from him. Cas isn’t deterred; he grasps Dean by the face and pulls him in for a kiss, and Dean lets him. Right there in front of all of his friends and family. Sam mutters a muted “thank fuck” behind them, and Dean flips him off behind Cas’s back. 

Cas pulls away. His words are to Amara, but they’re also to Dean. “I’m an angel, Dean, nothing can take that away from me, no matter how much grace I have. But I’m also human now too. And I chose that. I want that. To live a mortal life. With you. With Jack. With our family.” His eyes flit to the crowd behind them, obviously meaning family beyond the three of them.

Dean buffers for a full minute. 

Sam creeps up and slaps Cas on the shoulder. “Sounds great, man. We’d love to have you.”

“That’s it? We just… get a happy ending?”

Amara looks at him, smiles. “This is the ending you deserve, Dean.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache. He looks over and sees Cas shirtless and lying next to him in bed. He sits up.

“Don’t tell me I forgot us having sex for the first time.” he huffs angrily. He’ll fight Amara himself. 

Cas rolls over with a groan, hair askew and the imprint of his hand on his face. It makes Dean smile, and Cas smiles back. “Trust me, I think I’d remember that,” he replies, cool as fucking cucumber, and leans up for a kiss. He looks around once Dean lets him go. “Bunker?”

“Bunker.” Dean confirms. They both get out of bed at the same time, and Dean notes with a laugh that Amara popped him back to earth in his Scooby Doo pajamas. “You find Jack, I’ll find Sam?”

Cas nods. “And whoever else there is.” he reminds Dean. And suddenly it’s like they’re on an Easter Egg hunt of previously dead friends and family. Dean gives Bobby a hug before he even wakes him up, and the old man laughs gruffly and gripes at him for taking long enough. Charlie surprises Cas by jumping on him from behind, which only scares him half back to death. Even Jody and Donna and the girls show up on their doorstep, with an explanation that they got a visit from a certain cosmic goddess saying they’d better make a day trip. And of course, Dean ends up having to call Sam, because he’s already on his way to pick Eileen up from a couple towns over. Dean suspects they’ll take a little longer to join in on the reunion. Cas wakes Jack up like he’s a normal sick kid, and Jack starts crying happily almost immediately.

That night they have a party like none of them have ever seen. Alex and Patience raid the nearby dollar store to get cheap little lights that they string up on trees outside, Dean and Jody and Donna start cooking the second someone mentions food, and Claire and Kaia and Bobby take care of the drinks for the night. The rest of them pitch in where they can and laze around when there’s nothing else to do, and at some point, Dean drags out his record player and sets it up. (Cas responds with his own surprise collection of pop records, and Dean doesn’t even comment.) 

The night is insane. Most of them have at least parts missing in their memories, but Dean and Cas and Sam and Eileen all stay sober enough to remember it all. Dean and Cas come up to Sam and Eileen when they’re roasting s’mores, Sam practically sitting in Eileen’s lap. “Hey guys,” Sam says smugly. It’s a brotherly jab, but a jab nonetheless. 

“Yeah yeah,” Dean waves him off, blushing even as he pulls Cas closer to him. “We, uh,” he starts, then looks at Cas for help. 

“We’ve been looking at houses.” Cas finishes for him. Dean nods shakily, meeting Sam’s eyes like he’s afraid of his reaction. “On Zillow.”

Sam smiles so wide he’s afraid his face is gonna break. “That’s fantastic, guys.”

Eileen nods. “Congratulations.” she signs. “Can I see some of them?” Cas smiles and pulls out his phone to show her while Sam and Dean talk. Sam pulls his toasted marshmallow off the fire and Dean steals it immediately, cursing when hot marshmallow burns him for his crimes.

Sam snickers. “So, you’re retiring?”

Dean finishes swallowing the molten marshmallow and grins, showing off the remains in his teeth. Sam groans and punches him for his grossness. He looks down at his feet then back at his little brother, then over to where their partners are signing over a phone screen. “Yeah, I figure it’s time. If you- if-”

“Dean, I’m good.” Sam sets his roasting stick down. “Really. Eileen and I- we’ve been talking, and we think we wanna slow down on hunting too. Not stop- yet- but… maybe make the Bunker into more of a hunting base?”

“Become the new Bobbies.” Dean teases. 

Sam laughs and looks across the party. “Well, we’ve got the old Bobby back now.” Dean looks over too, to where Bobby’s talking to Mary and Ellen with a grin. “But something like that.”

The brothers share a look, and Dean ushers him in. “C’mon, gimme a hug.” he orders, opening his arms. Sam stands and complies, and they hug tightly, both really finally content. More than content. Happy. 

Jack wraps his arms around them before they can break apart, and they laugh and look at him, both wiping tears out of their eyes. “Are you guys okay?” Jack asks worriedly. He’s spent most of his time back asking that, his time in Chuck’s head giving him a horrible worry for his whole family’s genuine wellbeing. 

Sam and Dean nod. Dean tugs Jack in for a side hug and gives him a noogie. “Yeah kid, we’re good. Real good. Hey, how would you like to live in a house aboveground, huh?” He looks up, asking Sam’s permission, and Sam nods. Best that Jack is farther from hunting. He deserves to be a kid. 

Jack looks at him excitedly. “Really? That sounds awesome! Can I have a bedroom with a window that goes out on the roof?”

Sam laughs. “Okay, cool it with the teen coming of age movies, okay kid?” Dean teases. “We’ll see.”

Cas and Eileen join them again, and Cas squeezes Jack between him and Dean. “What are you talking about?”

“Jack’s bedroom at our place. He wants one with a view.” Dean winks at Cas over Jack’s head, and Cas smiles widely.

“We can make that happen.” He promises solemnly. 

“Pushover.”

“Says you!” 

“Okay, okay, senior citizens. Don’t give yourselves heart attacks.” Claire interrupts, knocking her shoulder into Dean. Dean rolls his eyes and bumps back into her, causing a ricochet that sends her falling into Kaia, who flips him off in turn. Cas covers up Jack’s eyes.

“Oh come on, he was God!” Kaia protests. 

“Yes, and he’s three years old.” Cas replies, not really upset. 

“Whatever.” Claire crosses her arms. “You guys better have a guest room for when we visit, geezers,”

“Yeah, sure, as long as you’ve got one for us.”

Claire furrows her brows. “We’re hunters in our twenties, what, do you think we’re made of money?”

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming over for Sunday lunches, then.” Jody sends a look at Claire and Kaia, who have the good sense to look chastised. Donna drapes herself across Jody’s back, definitely a little buzzed, and giggles.

“Think we’re gonna have to get a bigger table, Jodes,” she points out, gesturing around at the party. Jody nods. 

“Although  _ some  _ people are not invited.” she mutters, glaring at the back of Crowley’s head. 

“Somehow I don’t think he’s a Sunday dinner type.” Dean snorts at Cas, raising an eyebrow at Cas like  _ you think?  _ Cas shrugs. He does lean over close to Dean’s ear, suddenly with that excited, goofy smile he usually only gets with Jack. “Although I think he is a Thursday breakfast kind of person. Perhaps brunch.” 

Dean doubles over with laughter. Jody presses her lips together, pretending she’s hiding her impatience but actually trying to hide her joy and pride at seeing her sons so happy.

“It’s settled then. Sunday nights. Be there or I’ll hunt you down myself.”

Dean does a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

The dancing starts around midnight. Of course Charlie starts it, dragging Jo to the middle of the clearing when Taylor Swift starts playing. Claire and Kaia go next, followed by Alex and a protesting Kevin, and then Cas pulls Dean in too.

“Cas, I don’t dance.”

“Sh, yes you do.” Cas protests, fitting their hands clumsily together. Dean rolls his eyes and goes along with it, happier than he’s willing to admit.

“Hey Cas,”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You sure this is real?”

Cas smiles and leans in for a kiss. “Yes, Dean. I’m sure.”

Dean takes a moment to stare at him, taking in how handsome Cas looks in the flickering light. “What happens next?” 

“Whatever we want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to each and every person who read this story. This is the first long-form fic I've finished, and I was compelled to do it by one very bad episode of television. I hope that it has brought you half of the joy and laughs it's brought me. And if not, write a better one! And tag me, I'd love to read it! (literally mean this sincerely, I'm not even being a shit here). 
> 
> And especially, especially, thank you for my partner-in-crime on this venture, the cas-girl (masculine) to my dean-girl (masculine) so that I make sure to give Cas all the love he deserves too, to the person who came with me on insane ideas and made the story so much better and more fun to write, James, you're a babe.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! I'm really excited about this story. I'm updating twice a week, on Fridays and Tuesdays, because I'm a maniac. Bookmark if you wanna be updated or go to my tumblr @adhdeancas and ask to be added to the tag list.  
>   
> let me know your thoughts!!


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